Imago
by Shadowerr1
Summary: Sofia Lamb has left Rapture, taking Delta and Eleanor with her and leaving a power vacuum. With Rapture worse off from Delta's quest, it's up to those left behind. Will they crumble alongside the city, or will they rise from the ashes? Without Lamb, can they really reach Imago? Please review! (Sorry if i don't upload in a while, 6th form's a pain. I'll try when i can)
1. Chapter 1

Grace was sitting at her desk in the secret room of her apartment, staring morosely at the microphone through which she'd commanded "The Family." _Huh, if you could call them that anymore_, she thought to herself.

She couldn't think of anything to tell them. What could she say? In what direction should she lead them? She knew what was wrong. She'd lost her resolve, and she knew exactly what had caused it.

That, _Delta_. That man had forced her to rethink everything Lamb had told her. The one that broke her jaw, the one who had been bonded with little Eleanor, the one who stole her.

_No, _she reminded herself, _no he didn't. A man who spares the life of someone who tries to kill him isn't an Evil man. He would no more steal Eleanor than raise a hand to strike me_.

If only she hadn't been so blinded by Lamb's goals, allowing her weakness to become a means of exploitation. She clutched at her stomach, as she always did when thinking about her situation. Thinking about it now, she had confided in Lamb her deepest insecurities, and Lamb had used it against her. _Okay Grace, I will give you what you desire, so long as you pledge your allegiance to me_.

It was practically blackmail, decorated with the aspect of contributing to a greater cause. Would she have accepted Lamb's offer of her child if she'd known what Lamb was really after?

Well, yes, she probably would have. A weakness is a weakness. Would a bulkhead door hold against an oncoming flood, protecting those beyond its threshold if it knew the water would actually kill them? No, mere knowledge wouldn't have reinforced it; it would have crumpled as she did.

And to sound cliché, she'd felt happy at the time. Thinking on this gave her mixed feelings. On one hand, she felt sick to the stomach at the thought of her happiness later causing so much pain and distress. But on the other, she remembered the amount of times she'd held baby Eleanor tight, feeling the warmth you could only feel when another human being you love reciprocates that love.

She tapped the mic, forcing herself to think of something to say.

"Family," she whispered. She heard herself echoed outside of the building, across the entire of Paupers Drop. She sounded dejected, her voice cracking on a simple word. She cleared her throat, and continued. She didn't have anything in particular to say.

She decided to let her mouth take over, rather than her head.

"Family, I've been thinkin'. I've decided to reinstate the Friday night meetings. I know we haven't hosted them in several months, but at times like this, I think you'll all agree that we need to spend time with other people. We'll meet in The Limbo Room. That is all," she finished, slowly switching off the mic. She sighed, dropping her head.

_What I need, is a smoke_, Grace thought, temporarily allowing her stress to get to her. She reached for the packet of Nico-Time she kept on her desk and withdrew a single cigarette. She fumbled for the lighter in her pocket, a rare commodity in Rapture. What with all the Splicers using Incinerate! to burn up anything in they could, flammable objects we're hard to find. The lighter was circular in shape, embossed with a graving of Ryan's "Chain" in a fist. Inscribed underneath were the words "Rise, Rapture, Rise!"

She used to be able to light up with a single movement, but time had ravages her joints, leaving her arthritic and sore. Holding the lighter in both hands, she carefully flicked the lid open with her thumb. Flame immediately leapt from the nozzle, an innovative design without the need of a scroll wheel. Holding the cigarette in her mouth, she brought the flame to her lips, igniting the tip.

As the first wisp of smoke danced towards the ceiling, the building suddenly shook as though rocked by an earthquake. Dust cascaded from the roof in thick swathes, the desk bouncing against the floor. Grace was thrown from her seat, the lighter ripped from her hands.

_Oh, crap! _was all she thought. She lay, curled in a foetal position on the floor as tremors continued to rock the building, gradually loosing energy until the building was still once more. Wasting no time, Grace jumped up as fast as her body would allow her, which wasn't very fast at all. She frantically searched for her lighter, afraid that it had started a fire in the room. She eventually located it underneath the desk; it had snapped shut, presumably after she'd dropped it.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she bent to retrieve it.

"Grace!"

Grace straitened up to see Gideon Wyborn in the doorway, his eyes panicked.

"Oh thank Lamb! You're alright!"

"Of course I'm alright Wyborn. I survived a Tin Daddy, I can survive an earthquake. Any idea what it was?"

"Whatever it was, I think it was city wide."

Grace paused for a moment, considering what this would mean.

"I suppose I should try to contact the others. See is there's any trouble. Damaged walkways and all that."

"I'll go and see if everyone here's all right. I heard something fall. Something close," Gideon said, then disappeared.

Grace sighed. Something else to worry about. She grasped the microphone on her desk and strode over to the radio it was plugged into, her posture improving as she donned a more authoritative mindset. She reached for the dial and switched the setting from "Drop" to "Lamb". She hesitated for a second, before flicking on the mic.

"Hello? Doctor Lamb? It's Grace, please respond," she spoke, allowing time for Lamb to reply. Grace tapped the mic impatiently, the static pouring from the speaker in her room worsening the concern she felt in her stomach.

"Sofia, please respond," Grace repeated, hearing the panic rising in her voice. Grace decided to wait. _Lamb could be busy_, Grace reasoned with herself;_ perhaps that Tin Daddy done chased her down._

But as the seconds stretched into minutes, Grace knew Lamb wasn't going to reply. The mic suddenly felt heavy in her hand as dread replaced concern. What if something happened? Her wrist went limp, the weight of the mic dragging it downwards.

_Well, if Lamb has been compromised, its time to take matters into my own hands._

Lamb had told Grace that if anything happened to her or her hideout (wherever that was), control of the speakers throughout Rapture would be transferred to Grace. Every relay in Rapture had this function: Lamb had assumed control when Ryan and Fontaine had lost it. She reached out to the dial with a shaking had and switched to an option she'd hoped to never use properly, labelled simply as "Rapture."

Once she spoke, she wouldn't know if it would work. Last time she'd tried to use the "Rapture" function, it had only worked in Paupers Drop. Now, if it did work, she would still only hear it in Paupers Drop, but in reality her voice could echo throughout the entire of this god-forsaken city.

She sincerely hoped that only Paupers Drop could hear this, because the alternative was too horrible to consider. With all her flaws, Lamb gave her Eleanor.

She lifted the mic.

"Come in Rapture, Come in Rapture. This is Grace Holloway, leader of Paupers Drop. Repeat, this is Grace Holloway. Rapture, if any of you are alive out there please respond. Come in Rapture!"


	2. Chapter 2

_Oh Shit, Shit, SHIT!_

Stanley ran and dove behind the grand piano, positioning himself so that he could watch from his hiding spot.

A Big Sister had just walked into the Piano Bar, crouched in a defensive position as she scanned the room. She was moving slowly, indicating that whatever she was seeking was nearby; Big Sisters could run like the wind, and something told Stanley that had her target been further away, she would have cleared the room before he'd taken a step. He'd heard that some could even teleport.

He sucked down a breath, fearful that she'd hear his heavy breathing. This was the third Big Sister Stanley had seen since Johnny Topside or Delta or whatever he wanted to be called had come through.

_Something's goin' on, I can feel it,_ Stanley thought, his eyes never leaving the Big Sister. Remaining in her protective crouch, the Big Sister progressed further into the room, her arms held out slightly in front of her as though prepared to grab anyone foolish enough to cross her, or impale them with her harvester. After a few minutes, she'd completely cleared the room, the automated door smoothly closing behind her despite being disused since he'd flooded the place.

_And Lamb knew._

Recollection slammed into him like a defensive Big Daddy.

_Oh God, she knew the whole time!_

Stanley slumped to the floor and brought his knees up to his chest, hugging them there. Lamb knew that he'd flooded Dionysus Park. She knew he'd spent all her money. But most importantly, she knew he'd sent Eleanor away. He overheard her telling Delta that she forgave him, that Eleanor becoming a Little Sis' was a "blessing in disguise," but that didn't stop Stanley from being so goddam terrified. He knew what happened to Little Sisters when they grew up. They became Big Sisters, and Eleanor was certainly too old to be singing "Mr. Bubbles" anymore. Lamb kept saying that Eleanor was gonna become a Utopian, the people's daughter. Well, utopian or not, he didn't think Eleanor was beyond revenge.

That's why he hid from each Big Sister he saw; one of them could be _her._

But how could she have known? Lamb had escaped long after Eleanor had been taken away to Siren Alley, so it couldn't have been from her. And Stanley had killed everyone in Dionysus Park, so it couldn't have been one of them, and he'd been careful about it; made sure each one of them that knew about Eleanor had been sealed in.

So, who could it have been then?

It had to have been someone that only passes through Dionysus, rather than stay for the parties. Someone from maintenance perhaps, checking Circus of Value machines or fixing leaks.

Fixing leaks…

He sat up strait, sudden hate curling in his stomach as realization curled in his brain.

Who had he learned the structural weakness from? Who told him personally that one well placed blow could turn the entire Park into the world's biggest fish tank? Who wasn't there when he snuffed out the lives of each threat?

"Big Kate" O' fucking Malley, that's who.

She would have been working up at Adonis at the time. That's where Lamb snatched her kid back too, putting her right next to Kate. She musta told Lamb that I was the only one besides her who knew about the pipes, and everyone knew that Bill McDonough couldn't have done it; Ryan had skewered him up in his Hall Of Fame after his failed murder attempt.

Kate musta put two and two together and gave Lamb the answer. If he ever saw Kate again, ohh, she better not complain when he shoves a fistful of hornets down her throat, or maybe set her hair on fire. With the amount of hairspray she used, it was a surprise she didn't spontaneously combust, working around people with Electro Bolt or sparking cables, the big mouthed bitch.

Stanley shot to his feet, banging his hip on the piano in the process. He bellowed in anger mixed with shock and pain, and kicked the piano as hard as he could. His foot connected with the side of the piano and went through, the wood soft from being immersed in salt water for so long, but the joints of the piano had been strengthened with weeds and barnacles, preventing the piano from immediately collapsing. Frustrated, Stanley withdrew his foot, wishing he had an EVE hypo so that he could pulverize the damn thing with Telekinesis, or maybe get hold of a launcher and hit the thing with a frag grenade.

_Whoa Stanley! You're mad at Kate, not the piano!_ he chided himself, forcing himself to walk away. Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he began to walk towards the Atlantic Express station, where he'd made a temporary home in the control booth. It was ideal as the windows were Splicer proof as well as the door being lockable, an essential security feature against anyone who recognized him. He didn't fear any of The Rapture Family, as he now wore a paper butterfly on his chest, marking him as one of Lamb's flock. This kept him safe from The Family, as they wouldn't harm fellow followers.

But he did fear those not of The Family, the Splicers who (like him) didn't share Lamb's idealisms and had gone solo, or banded together into groups. Dionysus Park had been The Family territory until the flooding, but now since being drained it was neutral with all manner of Splicers roaming about. He did worry that a Big Daddy or a Big Sister would be able to smash through the glass, but since Delta had cleared the Park of those creepy little brats and their protectors, it was unlikely that he faced a threat from a Big Daddy for another few days, and even then he wouldn't be stupid enough to harm it's Little sister.

Hopefully, the booth was Eleanor proof too.

Walking quickly, he left the Piano bar behind, walking through the same door as the Big Sister had into the room with the carousel. He regarded it with distaste; it had always seemed out of place amongst the art and theatre to have a kiddies ride slap bang in the middle of Lamb's club. Now it was encrusted with sea life, glowing yellow with luminous sea weed. He hurried past and made his way to the tunnels, immersing himself in the muted blue light of the ocean. He paused for a moment and looked about him, checking if the tunnel was clear. When he saw it was, he stopped immediately and stared out at Rapture, sitting into his hips and pressing his hands against the glass. He sighed as he stared upwards, past the buildings of their ruined city and towards the surface, so many miles upwards.

This was one of the rare moments he had to himself and indulge in his fantasies. Though he hid it, he longed to feel the sun on his skin and the wind in his hair. Heck, he'd flood the entire of Rapture just to see the horizon again as the sun set.

And suddenly, the ground was no longer stable.

The tunnel shook with what he suspected to be seismic activity, strong enough to throw him to the floor. Water began to spray through the joins in the tunnel, spraying him in the face as he struggled to his knees. He bolted, trying to run as the ground shook beneath him. He tripped, falling face first to the floor. As quickly as he could, he got back up and ran, but not before he caught sight of something far away outside rushing to the surface. He didn't stop to analyze it, blind panic urging him to run to the safety of his booth. The tremors subsided as he reached the second tunnel. Water was spraying in this tunnel too, five or six thin jets placed at random along the tunnel. He continued to run, the adrenaline in his system forbidding him to stop. He was hyper aware of how vulnerable his back was with the entire tunnel behind him. A Big Sister could have snuck up on him in his panic. He slammed into the door at the end of the tunnel, bouncing on the spot as it opened. He flat out sprinted through the station and into the safety of his booth, slamming his hand onto the emergency lock button. He collapsed onto the floor, his heart hammering in his chest as it pumped pure panic through his system.

He lay there until it slowed, breathing heavily though his mouth to replenish oxygen faster. He slowly drew himself into a sitting position, one leg extended out in front of him the other bent, on which h rested his right arm.

He didn't raise his head, half afraid that a Big Sister would be staring in with a terrifying red porthole and a harvester extended…

"_Come in rapture, come in Rapture."_

Stanley's jumped, shocked by the sudden voice that sounded in his booth. He crawled over to the main console and stared at the speaker grill, disbelieving. Who was calling? It defiantly wasn't Lamb's voice. Had she been overthrown or something? Or had someone hacked into the main speakers system?

"_This is Grace Holloway, leader of Paupers Drop_."

Paupers Drop? Wasn't that some hell hole tucked under the rails somewhere?

"_Repeat, this is Grace Holloway. Rapture, if any of you are alive out there please respond. Come in Rapture!"_

What the hell…?

What was happening? "If any of you are alive"? Had something happened? Perhaps it was something to do with the 'quake he just felt. Had the Drop been cut off? Maybe they were calling for help.

Well, if it was help they wanted they could piss off. It was Rapture, and the weak die. But then again, it could mean something that affected everyone. He deliberated for a second, before switching on the stations radio system.


	3. Chapter 3

Alex the Great couldn't have been happier. Lamb was gone. She was gone! She'd finally activated those wretched charges and plunged into the depths. Oh how her soothing voice had gotten on his nerves. Oh "The Family" this and "Utopia" that. Give me a break! He felt great. And the best part? He was still alive!

When Lamb had set off her little fireworks throughout Persephone, she thought that it would bring down Fontaine Futuristics because they were "attached."

How wrong she was. Persephone was built in a cavern _under_ Fontaine Futuristics, rather than the underside of his building. There was solid rock between the two buildings, ten meters of it at that. So she'd plunged to her death whilst he lived on.

Of course, the explosions had caused havoc. He'd activated the emergency reinforcements a split second before Lamb had hit the button. The metal shutters had barely closed over his tank before the first explosion racked the entire building. Luckily only a few of the glass panels had shattered and were easily sealed off from the specimen network before too much water was lost. Water was already being pumped in, and Alex had turned the lights off, preserving his eyes from further pain.

Wait…a life boat? Alex had just checked the radar, and saw that it detected a lifeboat had been launched from Persephone with three life forms on board.

Hmm, maybe Lamb had escaped after all. No matter, she was gone either way.

Well what could he do know?

The ADAM in his system hadn't granted him any plasmid abilities unfortunately, so he couldn't go on a rampage, and Delta had severed his control over the security bots so he couldn't wreak havoc. But the ADAM had affected him in another way; he was more powerful in the mind, however twisted it was.

All he needed was a cause to put it too.

"_Come in Rapture, come in Rapture._"

Oh? Hello! Looks like a cause just found him.

* * *

The only sound Becky could hear was the grinding of the wheels and the musical quality of falling water as she stood in the Waterfall grotto. She hardly noticed them, lost in a world of her own.  
She gazed at the plaque she'd hammered into the ground eight years ago. She'd only been twelve then. Now she was twenty years old, yet the pain had barely dulled.

The plaque read: _Julie Langford. Resting amongst her work and the tools she used when she played her part. 1960._

Becky had had to find someone old enough to inscribe the plaque for her, and to help her cremate Julie's body. At twelve years of age, she single handedly spread her mother's ashes amongst the Rosa Gallica, a place Becky thought her mother would like; her body wouldn't use up space in Arcadia's cemetery and it would feed the plants that saved her trees and subsequently the whole of Rapture.

With her head bowed, she stooped to scrub away the moss that constantly grew over the metal, which thankfully hadn't corroded with the moisture in the air.

Becky still remembered finding her mother on the floor in her office, the combination to her safe hastily scrawled in the poisoned gas condensation on the window. She could still hear the noise of the Central Misting Control Panel as it filled the air of Arcadia with her mother's precious Lazarus Vector, and smell the blood in the air of the dead Splicers that mysteriously cluttered the Research Centre.

Satisfied with her work, Becky stood up and continued to stare at the Rosa Gallica, the most beautiful thing Becky had seen since everything had gone to hell. With all the rubble and leakages and Big Daddies and filthy Splicers…beauty was hard to come by in Rapture, but these flowers came damn close. With her shoulders hunched with grief, she began to walk up the stairs back to her mother's old office.

_Her_ office; Becky had assumed control of Arcadia. After all, someone had to look after Rapture's main source of oxygen, and she sure as hell wasn't going to let the Saturnine have the place, not after he mother had worked so hard on it.

Passing one now, Becky shot a dark look at the entrance to a Saturnine hide out. They had kept relatively quiet since she'd made an agreement with them; they'd leave her alone to work and even agreed to help maintain the trees in return for materials required for their silly little rituals. She agreed to give them things like enzyme extracts and stuff like that, but she'd point blank refused to supply them with blood, as it would mean the grizzly task of getting out her old Little Sister syringe and use it for real, and action she'd vowed never to do.

Becky had been stolen from her mother at an early age to work as a Little Sister. What her captors didn't count on was her ingenuity when it came to escapology; she'd practiced countless times with her mother to prepare for that exact situation. She'd already been equipped with the syringe and had undergone more than half of the mental conditioning before she'd escaped. She didn't even have a sea slug in her belly; the operation was saved till last, the mental preparation done beforehand. She still caught glimpses of angels in place of dead bodies, but that had been reduced to happening once every three months or so.

Still, the syringe still fit in her delicate hands when she held it to remind herself how worse things could be.

As soon as she passed through the doors of the research centre, she activated the security system and stayed there until the rattling of shutters and clunking of locks had finished. She'd removed the shutters that the Splicers had destroyed the night her mother died and replaced them with the spare sets they kept in a secure place. It had been painstaking work carrying the heavy metal, so she'd spliced up with telekinesis to help her. She had been careful though, deciding only to use it when necessary to avoid being deformed by ADAM, or driven mad through overuse. Still, a girl had to have some form of protection in Rapture, and it had proved a smart investment. She'd been attacked whilst clearing up vines in the Tea Garden, pinned down by a sex crazed Splicer. She'd used her plasmid to stab the splicer in the back with the shears she was using as he forced her to the ground, the blood coated tip of the implement stopping barely a few centimeters above her own chest.

Becky took her time walking towards her office, through the relatively clean environment of the Research Centre. When Becky had taken over, she'd spent an entire week cleaning out both the research centre and her office. She supposed it was subconscious, the need to be able to control things in her immediate area when practically all other aspects of her life were influenced by others. She'd used telekinesis to remove the corpses and present them to the Saturnine which had begun their agreement. She'd mopped up blood, wiped windows, thrown out rubble and used plaster to fill in holes gouged out of the walls. The results had proven quite fruitful; she'd restored the research centre to near what it looked like when it first opened.

She passed through the threshold and walked into her office, heading strait for the water dispenser she'd installed into the office. She reached for her mug she kept on her desk and filled it with water she'd flavored with some powdered tea she'd found in the farmers market, relishing the taste of apple instead of stagnant water.

When she'd finished half of the mug, she went over to the safe and unlocked it. She'd changed the combination as soon as she could, afraid a Splicer had seen the combination before she'd had a chance to wipe it away from the window. From the safe she removed a vial of nutrients and minerals she'd concocted into a liquid form and inserted it into the Central Misting Control Panel. Pushing the button, the machine began to slowly fill the entire of Arcadia with the plant's weekly dose of nutrients and minerals. She bit her lip, the sound of the Panel bringing her back to 1960…

Warding away the memories, she walked back over to her safe and withdrew the bottle of Moonshine Absinthe she'd also found in the farmers market. Unfastening the bottle, she allowed only a drop or two to fall into her drink. The color of the flavored water turned a slightly darker shade of green as the absinthe mixed with the apple tea. Taking her drink, she pulled up a chair and put her feet up on the Misting Pannel, feeling the vibrations through her legs.

She sipped from her mug, both relaxing and grimacing as the alcohol warmed he stomach and burned her throat. She set her mug on the floor and stared out of the window at the tree tops. It saddened her to notice the absence of birds nesting between the branches, something she never thought she'd actually miss.

The leaves began to shake on the trees, only slightly at first but then gathering strength, quivering as though blown by a wind.

But this was Rapture, and there was no wind.

Becky looked down at her mug, and saw that ripples had begun to form in the water, showing that whatever it was wasn't just affecting the trees. She looked over at the water cooler at saw that the water was sloshing around, affected but the vibrations coming up through the floor that Becky suddenly began to notice. It felt like an after tremor from some earthquake or something.

Just as soon as it had started, the leaves stopped shaking and the ripples in her mug smoothed out, showing that whatever just happened had finished.

_What just happened?_

The Misting Control Pannel fell silent, notifying Becky that it had finished with a soft ring of a bell. She detached the vial from the Control Panel and took it into the Research Center, where she refilled it with the same mixture from a water cooler not unlike the one in her office. When it was full, she quickly returned it to the safe, locking it.

That done, she turned to the matter at hand. She walked to the interface near her desk and typed in a few commands using the ancient metal keyboard she'd salvaged from an old typewriter. She checked her local sensors for seismic activity and then sensors across the city. Maybe they lost another district, like Dionysus Park all over again, some stupid Splicer progressing the city further into the sea bed. With another stroke of the keys she printed out a report. As the clunky machinery put ink to paper, she took another swig fro her mug, completely draining it.

As soon as the printer spat out the paper, the tore it from the machine and scanned the information, picking out the only relevant pieces of information she needed.

Under "Sensor," she looked for the initials ADA, which was the short code for Arcadia. Looking at the reading, it said that the ADA sensor had only registered low level activity.

But she saw a trend in the readings, which all got higher as they got to one particular sensor. After that, the readings decreased again.

The sensor with the highest reading had been entitled FTF. That could mean it was Fort Frolic or Fontaine Futuristics. As Fort Frolic was closer to Arcadia, she guessed that it must have originated from the latter.

What confused her most that underneath FTF was another sensor called PNE.

It read blank. But that was impossible, PNE, whatever it was, had to be right next to Fontaine Futuristics, and therefore should be just under the FTF reading.

She was just about to re-print the page when the radio system suddenly crackled to life.


	4. Chapter 4

"It was the train car in Town Square. It fell over," Gideon said as soon as he returned, "No one was hurt, but it's made a helluva mess; metal and rubble all over the place."

"I'm sure we can patch that up soon," Grace replied, still holding the microphone.

"Still waiting for a reply?" Gideon asked, his brow furrowing.

"It's only been a few minutes yet," Grace replied wearily, settling down in a chair.

"Ya know, when I was down there, people started asking questions. Getting' panicked and all that. They wanna know what's going on Gracie," Gideon said meekly, "Myself included."

"I'll make an announcement to…"

"_Hello? Paupers Drop? This is Stanley Poole from Dionysus Park callin',_" a voice came through the radio. Grace had immediately flicked to a closed channel, assuming everyone who wanted to reply would lock onto her signal so no-one else could hear them.

"Stanley Poole? The guy from the Rapture Tribune, right?"

"_Yeah, uh, that's me. Who's asking_?" Stanley replied.

"Grace Holloway. I'm in charge over here," Grace calmly replied.

"_Yeah, Stanley. I run things over here at Dionysus."_

Grace leaned forward and narrowed her eyes.

"Now I thought that place flooded…"

"_Well I uh, came back after someone drained it. How thoughtful, hehe."_

"Lemme guess; Delta?" Grace raised an eyebrow. She heard Stanley laugh nervously over the radio.

"_I guess I wasn't the only one who came face to face with that palooka, eh?"_

"Naw, I met him. But to business Poole," Grace sounded serious.

"**Hello? Is this thing on?"** a new voice spoke, sounding young and female.

"_Who's that?"_

"**This if Becky Langford of Arcadia speaking. What's going on?"**

"Langford as in Julie's daughter, right?" Grace asked, recalling hearing about Langford's work with Rapture's oxygen supply.

"**Yeah, she was my Mom. She died."**

"_Sorry toots, but this is Rapture. We've all lost someone."_

"Mr. Poole, please be more considerate. Apologize."

"_Urgh, fine. I'm sorry Becks_."

"**Becky."**

"_Becky then. I'm sorry. Now what was all the shakin' and quakin'about?"_

"I was hopin' to ask the same question. Do any of you know?"

"**As a matter of fact, I think I do. I just checked the seismic sensors…"**

"_How did you do that!"_

"**I've got a computer here dumbass, and this is Rapture after all; the smart survive," **Becky retorted, repeating Stanley's words with a mocking tone.

"And what did the sensors say?" Grace asked, urging these two strangers from descending into argument. 

"**Well, the printout said…"**

"_You got a printer too?"_

Grace could hear Becky's frustration through the Radio.

"Calm, Mrs. Langford."

"**Right, the printout. Well, are you familiar with the codes Ryan gave to each district?"**

"_Yeah, like Paupers Drop is PPD and Dionysus park is DNP, right?"_

"**Right. It said that the seismic activity began in one place and shock waved outwards."**

"_I'm guessing that's smart talk for "It wasn't an earthquake." So what are we dealin' with here, an explosion in a district or something?"_

"**That's what I'm thinking. The readout read that the most activity was recorded at FTF."**

"…Fort Frolic?"

"**No, Fontaine Futuristics."**

The mic nearly fell out of Grace's hands. Fontaine Futuristics. She didn't know where Lamb's hideout was, but she knew it was near there.

"**There was also…"**

"Yes?"

"**It's probably nothing, but there was a…strange reading."**

"_Strange. In Rapture," _Stanley's tone was blunt, as though hinting at how stupid the previous statement sounded.

"**Well, strang_er_. There was a ghost reading. The data is set out in order of location, right? So the reading both on top and below FTF should have been near the same reading."**

"_Where you goin with this Becky?"_

"**Well, there was a reading entitled PNE. On the list it was directly below FTF but…"**

"_**Well?"**_

"**It was blank. Zero reading."**

"It could just have been broken," Grace dismissed.

"**I suppose it could be."**

"_What does PNE stand for anyway?_

"**I don't know. Perhaps it was just a glitch. I was gonna e-print it before I heard Grace's call…"**

"How about you Poole? Have you seen anything?"

"_As a matter of fact I did. I was in a tunnel at the time. I saw something in the sea, something goin' up."_

"What do you mean, goin' up?"

"_What are ya, deaf? Gee. Oh. Eye. En. Gee. You. Pee. Going up, like some sorta craft or something."_

"_**Indeed it was!"**_

Everyone fell silent. The voice had sounded warped, as though who ever it was had been talking into a fan. Perhaps they had a weak signal, or some Gene Tonic had tragically disfigured this person's voice box. Grace glanced back at Gideon, who shrugged. She turned back to the microphone.

"And who might you be?"

"_**NEVER YOU MIND! Indeed it was a craft. And on said craft were three life forms! Lamb, Delta and El-ean-or, the sky a most beautiful sight they saw!"**_

Who ever it was had sung the last two sentences to the tine of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star," though he had to rush the last few words to fit them in.

Grace tilted her head confusedly.

"What? Lamb's…gone?"

Silence. __

"_Hey pal, what were you on about?"_

Nothing.

"I think he's gone," Grace said, suddenly staring at a random point on the wall. Lamb was gone? Well, at least she wasn't dead, but what did that mean for the rest of them? If Lamb was gone, that meant no one was controlling Rapture.

Well, no-one _Human_ at any rate.

But Eleanor was gone too? Grace clutched her stomach, a sharp pain wrenching her gut. _Eleanor's gone!_

"She's with her Father Grace. She'll be fine," she heard Gideon say, touching her shoulder lightly. She waved him away with a flap of her hand.

"I'm fine," she gasped, shaking her head to clear it.

"**Grace? Is everything okay? And who's that with you?"** Becky sounded worried for the first question, but worry melted into suspicion by the second.

"Oh that's Gideon. He helps me from time to time. It's Eleanor, Lamb's daughter. I shan't bore you with the details, but she mean's a lot to the people here in the Drop. She also means a lot to me."

"_Wait! Eleanor's gone?" _Stanley asked, disbelieving.

"Well, that's what tat guy said."

"_Oh that's…terrible! She was the people's daughter! What're we gonna do now?"_ Stanley had paused before saying "Terrible," a fact Grace picked up on. Grace kept silent, but from the fake tone in his voice, she knew that Eleanor being gone for some reason was a good thing for him.

"You part of the family? Grace asked instead.

"_Of course I am. I was in charge of Dionysus Park weren't I? You think Lamb would put someone in charge that she didn't trust? Did you even know her?"_

"Well, she trusted me enough to look after Eleanor when Lamb was arrested. That is, until I lost her…"

"**Oh my, that sounds terrible! Not that I'm blaming you, but to lose a child in Rapture…"**

"No, you're quite right Miss Langford. I was partly my fault for being careless, but I now know it was organized. Someone took Baby Eleanor from me on purpose. Took her to be a Little Sister…"

She heard Becky's muffled gasp through the speaker. She'd presumably covered her mouth with her hand.

"_What now?"_

"**It's nothing," **Becky said quickly, warding off any conversation that would ensue.

"It didn't sound like nothin' to me. What's wrong?"

Becky let out a long, shaky breath.

"**I too was stolen as a child. I was going to be a Little Sister."**

"_Jesus Christ, they're everywhere…"_

"Oh, you poor thing! What happened? Do you have a…thing inside you? Were you a Big Sister or something?"

"**No, I didn't allow any of that. I escaped halfway through mental conditioning. I never had the operation."**

"…Did you know Eleanor?"

"**No, I don't think so. I wasn't introduced to many other girls, but I knew a few. Maybe. I dunno. It was a long time ago, and my mind was being altered at the time."**

"_Not to be rude or anything, but her knowing Eleanor at Little Sis' boot camp isn't really relevant right now."_

"Yes, quite right," Grace sighed, closing her eyes to give herself time to think.

"**Well...let's summarize. Sofia Lamb, recent Leader of Rapture, is gone. Her daughter is also gone. And some guy called Delta. Without Lamb, no one is running Rapture, which means…"**

"_It's up to…us?"_

"I think you may be right, Mr. Poole. It's up to us."

"_So what're we gonna do with Rapture? We could do anything we want!"_

"Now hold up, Mr. Poole. Jus' because no-one is pushin' Rapture's buttons doesn't mean we can do it for them."

"**But what do we do now?"**

Grace sat there, pondering. She looked about her room. She and her two new partners could assume power of Rapture. She smiled slightly. _My very own city_.

But what should they do?

She looked around her room for the second time, but this time she _really_ looked. If she were in charge, what should she change?

She confidently reached for the microphone.

"We're going to rebuild. We're gonna fix Rapture."


	5. Chapter 5

There was stunned silence from the other two people, filled only by the crackle of static from the speakers.

Stanley was the first to speak.

"_And just how do you suppose we do THAT, Grace?"_

Grace chewed on her lip as she considered the question.

"Well, we do what we can. We clean up rubble. We burn or bury our dead. We fix leaks. Repair wires. Fill up holes. Drain where it's flooded. It's not beyond us."

"_What the hell are you on Lady? Are you smoking Nico-Time? 'Cuz I heard they're made of sea shells and fish eggs."_

"**I must admit, I share Stanley's skepticism. How are we going to repair leaks, and who can we employ to do it?"**

"We don't employ anyone. We urge the public to help. Since Lamb is gone, The Family will follow me instead. They're splicers; they need something to work towards. I'm sure they'll band together."

"**But that wont work."**

"What do you mean it won't work? I'll ask them to…"

"**No, I meant the whole picture. I don't doubt your leadership with your "Family", but what happens when Rapture IS fixed? It'll get torn apart again."**

"Not if we tell them not to. If we…"

"**No," **Becky interrupted yet again.

Grace liked the woman better than the man, but she was a bit too rude to her liking.

"**I'm sorry to say Grace, that there is only one solution to restore Rapture."**

"_It sounds like you've given this some thought, Becky."_

"**Well, when you've lived by yourself for eight years with no one but a cult of blood drinking maniacs, you have a lot of time to think."**

Grace's heart ached when she heard Becky's history, but she said nothing.

"_Vampires? I suppose it was only a matter of time…"_

"**We need to get rid of ADAM."**

"Is she crazy?" Gideon suddenly exploded behind her. He strode forward and grabbed the mic, "Listen lady, these splicers are addicted to the stuff. You take away their ADAM you'll kill them!"

"Gideon, please stop," Grace cautioned, "There's no need to shout."

"But she's mental!"

"Gideon, do me a favor? Go and help tidy the train car away," Grace ordered, pointing towards the door. Gideon opened his mouth to argue, but seeing the expression on Grace's face, he left without another word.

"Don't you go tellin' anyone!" Grace called after him, before turning back to the mic, "Continue Miss Langford. I'm guessing there's a little more to the story than "Cut the supply"."

"**Actually, that was my suggestion. We cut the supply. But I never said it was possible, nor did I say that we were going to do it. I was just saying that the only way you can truly rebuild Rapture is to get rid of ADAM."**

"Now I appreciate your help Miss Langford, but that's where I disagree with you. I personally believe that we can fix Rapture without removing ADAM from the city. We just need to get everyone to see eye to eye…"

"_Splicers are more likely to gouge each others eyes out than get along."_

Grace sighed exasperatedly.

"Well, I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"**Fine then. Well, what are we going to do? Make an announcement?"**

"Actually, that's exactly what we need to do."

"_Really? You're just gonna tell splicers to do something impossible and expect them to do it?"_

"Stanley, look around you."

Grace left enough time for Stanley to do this before continuing.

"Now, tell me what you see?"

"_Well, there's a train. Water. Alotta fish too…"_

"You see Rapture, Stanley. Your home. Andrew Ryan built Rapture _under the sea_. Ever' body said it was impossible. Now how can he build a city under the sea, but we find it impossible to clean the damn thing?"

"_I…I…"_

"Stanley, stop making excuses, okay?It isn't impossible."

"**I…I agree. We can do this!"**

"So, we all in?"

"**Defiantly. I've already started!"**

Grace waited for Stanley's reply.

"_Urgh OKAY! Okay, I'm in."_

"Excellent."

"**I can't believe it. We're actually doing this!"**

"We certainly are!"

"**I think we should assign roles though. God knows we need to have this well organized."**

"_God? Your one of those "Contraband Christians" aren't you..."_

But Grace had stopped listening. She was frowning instead, trying to remember something she couldn't help but feel like she had forgotten. What word had set it off?

Roles? Organized? God?

God.

Father Wales.

Why hadn't he responded yet? He should have been the first to reply, being third in command for The Family.

"One second guys, somethin's come up."

Before either person could respond, Grace switched the radio from her secure line to "Wales."

"Father Wales? You there?" Grace said. She stared at the speaker, willing a response out of it.

But none came.

"Father Wales, please! Are you there?" Grace was getting desperate, clinging to the hope that one familiar face was still under the ocean with her. Obviously there was The Family, but she needed someone like her, like Father Wales who had been lead by Lamb.

A single tear tracked down her cheek.

Pursing her lips, she flicked back to the secure channel.

"…_.but you can't be certain."_

"**Yes I can! I…"**

"PEOPLE PLEASE! Calm down," Grace shouted over the arguing, trying desperately to sound in control whilst all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and go to sleep.

"Right, where were we?"

"_Assigning roles."_

"Ah, thank you Mr. Poole. Roles. Well, there are several things to be done, but I think we can divide that into three. The leaks need to be fixed, and they need to be fixed from the out side. I'm guessin' we need to find all the un-bonded Big Daddies and have them help out. We need in inside of Rapture cleaned and electrical equipment pipes fixed. Well, The Family can clean up…"

"**I'll take care of the bodies," **Becky said suddenly.

"Any particular reason that _you_ wanna clean up corpses?"

"**Well…I need the blood. I have this cult here called the "Saturnine." We have an agreement that if I supply them with stuff they need, they help me or leave me and my work alone, depending on my current situation. I think I can get them to help us as blood is on their shopping list. I always refused to get blood for them, but now I guess they can do it for me."**

"_Gross, but effective."_

"Well I guess that resolves one of our problems. Now we need to figure out whose goin' to sort out wiring and plumbing."

"_Don't ask me; I can't do_ _anything with wires."_

"Well, you'll just have to fix the leaks then."

"…_Uh okay. WAIT! Does that mean I have to go outside?" _Stanley sounded horrified.

"Well, I suppose you don't. But it does mean that you have to get the Big Daddies to help. Now, the electricity…"

"_Hold up. How the hell am I gonna rally a team of Big Daddies?"_

"I suppose you're just gonna have to take initiative. It's either that or you fix all of the leaks of Rapture by yourself."

"…_Fine then."_

"_Perhaps I could be of some assistance?"_

This voice was completely new, causing all three people to lapse into silence once again. The voice was clearly robotic, echoing as though spoken in a hollow metal container.

"_Great. Another initiate to the Rapture Sanitation Engineers."_

"What's your name, son?"

"_I am the Thinker, the most advanced computing device in the world. I am able to control the door mechanisms, the Pneumo network, the security, the vending machines, the Oxygen concentration in the air and maintain the radio networks of Rapture. I was listening in to your conversation and I thought you may requite my abilities."_

"**The Thinker? How come I've never heard of you before? Where are you?"**

"_I was constructed in the district Minerva's Den, home of Rapture Central Computing. The entire district was cut of from the rest of Rapture through one man's selfishness, and I was forbidden contact to the outside world."_

"Minerva's Den eh? Haven't heard of that place in years. Went under ages ago. Well Mr. Thinker, I think your talents may come in handy to us. Do you mind if we call on you when we need you?"

"_Not at all. Request: may I run a diagnostic check of Raptures security system?"_

"Of course you can. Will we be able to call on you whilst you do that?"

"_Yes."_

"Alright then, off you go. Now, Mr. Poole, I assume you're going to find a wetsuit and a rivet gun then?"

"_Yeah yeah, I'm going."_

"Take a hand held radio with you please. We need to stay in touch. Oh, and one more thing."

"_What?"_

"I need you to go over to Siren Alley to check if everything's okay. I just tried to contact a friend over there, and he didn't respond."

Grace heard Stanley grumble before his line was cut off.

"Same goes for you Becky. Get a hand held and go talk to this Saturnine of yours."

Without a second's hesitation, Becky clicked off, leaving Grace by herself.

_Well, that went better than expected _Grace thought to herself. She felt herself smile, an uncontrollable urge to show how excited she was. They were going to fix Rapture!

She looked over at her mic. She had a feeling that she was going to be using that thing a lot more than she used to. She quickly thought of what she was going to say before switching back to the "All" setting.

"Rapture, this is an important announcement. Stop whatever it is you're doing and pay attention. Sofia Lamb is gone. She has deserted us in her attempt of creating a Utopian, leaving us to fend for ourselves. Well, I think it's high time that we took matters into our own hands! Family, we are goin' to clean up Rapture. I repeat we are goin' to clean up Rapture. This is an order. I am Grace Holloway, and together, we are going to save ourselves. We will reach what Lamb always promised us; we will reach Imago!"


	6. Chapter 6

Stanley practically skipped around Dionysus Park as he tried to find the components of a diving suit.

_She's gone! Eleanor's gone! She can't hurt me! _

He sprinted back through the tunnel he'd been in earlier, past the carousel and strait into the door opposite into Cohen's collection. He briefly noticed that the Splicers had already started to clean, several tearing the luminous sea weed away from the floors whilst others were scraping barnacles off the walls. He hastened through the collection and headed towards the basement storage.

"Stop right there!"

Stanley's pace faltered, but he kept walking.

"No can do, I'm on a mission," he called. He didn't know where the voice came from, so he just stared ahead as he talked, eager to get away from whoever spoke. Whoever it was, it was female and unfamiliar.

"_I know you, Stanley. I know what you did."_

Stanley halted, suddenly rooted to the spot with fear. _Kate? O'Malley? Jeez, when one threat goes, another arrives._ He chuckled nervously, attempting to make it look like he didn't know what the speaker was on about.

"Hey, I don't know what this is about, but don't you have algae to scrub?" Stanley said, slipping his hand into his pocket. He withdrew first a pistol, then his radio.

"You tried to kill us all Stanley. _All_," the voice was closer, coming from somewhere to his left. No, it wasn't Kate. The voice wasn't mannish enough, and the accent was all wrong.

He began walking again, determinedly heading away from the voice. In the distance, he heard the familiar grind of a camera.

That gave him an idea.

"I evidently failed then, didn't I? You're still bothering me," Stanley taunted, stalling for time. He rounded the corner and began descending the steps. The camera was on his left now, its green light tracing the walls. _Shit, someone's hacked this camera. _Stanley was going to go and hack the camera himself, but now that plan was redundant.

"That you did Stanley. That. You. Did."

She defiantly wasn't a Spider Splicer; Stanley was more than familiar with the sound their hooks made wherever they went. That means that whoever she was, she was a Houdini, a Lead Head or a Thug.

He clicked the button on the radio, praying she wasn't a Houdini.

"_Hey, Thinker, I need a favor. There's a camera in the basement storage of Dionysus Park. I'm being followed, and I need to get by the camera without triggering the alarm. Think you could uh, help me out here?" _he whispered, quiet enough so that the Splicer couldn't hear. He turned the volume down for the reply.

"_Request granted. Proceed.__"_

Stanley returned the radio to his pocket and sprinted as fast as he could.

"Come back here!" the Splicer screamed. He heard her run after him, her high heels stabbing the floor in fury.

Stanley flew down the steps, taking three at a time. With a screech, the Splicer soared overhead and landed in front of him.

"Gotcha!" she snarled, grabbing him by the shirt. He got a look at her face, or what was left of it. Half a nose, sagging skin, broken teeth, dirty black hair cut into a "bob" with a ripped green dress on. She looked like a regular Lead Head. But he still didn't recognize her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the camera begin to swing towards them.

"Hey lady?" Stanley said, smiling down at the enraged Splicer.

"WHAT?"

"Smile for the camera."

With a look of horror, the Splicer looked at the camera, just as it looked at her, the green circle of light turning white and the alarm ringing overhead. She instantly dropped him and ran, screaming as the first Security Bot flew in, firing bullets repeatedly at her. With a final scream, she keeled over, her body crashing to the ground.

Stanley patted himself down and walked over to where the Splicer lay, blood mixing in with the pool of salt water, turning it crimson. He bent over and searched her pockets, retrieving a couple of dollars and a med kit. He also liberated her pistol of the rounds she wouldn't need anymore.

He was about to leave when a piece of paper caught his eye, poking out between the woman's cleavage. He looked around to see if anyone was around before retrieving it. The last thing he wanted was to be labeled a Necrophiliac.

He unrolled the piece of paper:

_Well hey there Stanley. Long time no see –KOM_

Stanley allowed the paper to fall from between his fingers, before continuing to walk, his face a mask of hate and fear.

KOM. Kate O'Malley.

So, Kate _was_ after him. Well, bring it on Kate, bring it on.

He put his hands in his pockets and began to whistle, walking towards the airlock. He didn't need Kate interrupting his train of thought.

"Is someone there?" another voice called out. Stanley turned to corner and saw a woman holding a bucket full of fish. She was wearing a butterfly pin.

"Oh hey! You here to help?"

"No, I'm headed over to Siren Alley."

"Ah well. Take care!" she called, before walking towards airlock where she dumped the fish onto a growing pile on the airlock floor.

_Diver's suit, Diver's suit, where is a Diver's suit? _Stanley looked around until he found what he was looking for; a hidden locker built within the wall in front of the airlock. He took out a pen knife from his back pocket and went to work carving the edges of the locker out, chipping away shells and coral. With a jerk of his hand, the locker wrenched open, debris falling to the floor. Luckily for him the locker was airtight, meaning that the suit inside was nice and dry.

"Hey, can you help me with this?" Stanley asked. The woman dumped another load of fish in the airlock and walked over, holding the wetsuit open as he stepped in and pulled it up to his neck.

"Thanks," he said.

"No problem," she replied and resumed piling the fish. He pulled the clunky boots on and held the helmet under his arm.

"You done?" he enquired, looking around for more fish. He didn't see any. The woman dumped yet another bucket of fish and blew a strand of hair off her face.

"I am now. See ya!" she called. She exited the airlock and picked up a brush, with which she began scrubbing the windows with. Stanley smiled; the old girl had been right. Splicers just needed something to work towards.

He grabbed the oxygen tank and slung it across his back, grabbing the hose-like air tube and plugging it into the back of the helmet. With the tube attached, he raised the helmet and slowly lowered it onto his head. When he felt the helmet stopped by the neck ring, he sharply jerked the helmet to the left, locking it in place. Quickly checking that everything was locked and sealed, he stepped into the airlock. Carefully avoiding the fish, Stanley reached for the lever and switched it from "Drain" to "Flood". Cold water instantly filled the airlock, causing Stanley to shiver violently whilst the last of the air was replaced with water. The fish from the pile had begun to move, some swimming weakly whilst others merely floated with the currents, the water unable to revive them. Stanley heard a bell ring as the airlock door slid open. Stanley stepped out and into open sea, fish swimming around his ankles and out into the ocean whilst the dead ones drifted out, some beginning to move as prolonged exposure to the water proved that they weren't dead.

He began to walk towards Siren Alley, the water slowing his movements with both its physical resistance and the cold. He looked at his surroundings with the light built into the helmet. He could see the rocks that created the pathways between each districts, covered in the same seaweed that was in Dionysus Park, providing extra illumination to the surroundings. He could also see the detritus of the world he lived in; rusting metal and the occasional rotting corpse.

He pressed on, wading through the water as it fought to keep him at the same speed. Just as he looked left he saw an ADAM slug clinging to a rock, half hidden by a light fixture. Diverting his path, he reached out and grabbed the slug off the rock, putting it into a suit pocket for later use. Eventually, the Siren Alley airlock came into view, glowing like a beacon in the otherwise dark water. Stanley squinted into the gloom as it loomed ahead of him, relieved to soon be in the air again. Yet no sooner had he entered the airlock that he could see that was never going to happen.

The other door was open. Wide open. And the district beyond was flooded.

"Grace," he said, knowing that the radio in his helmet would sync to the one in his pocket, "I think I might know why your guy in Siren Alley hasn't responded." He walked further into the alley, catching glimpses of floating corpses and invasive sea life.

"_Why? What happened?"_

"It's completely flooded Grace. Someone opened both doors in the airlock."

He heard her gasp.

"Thinker?"

"_Yes?"_

"Are there any cameras on in Siren Alley?"

"_Yes. They are water proof, and are…"_

"Yeah whatever. I need you to check if anyone is alive in here, if there are any, uh, air bubbles or somethin'," Stanley said, eyeing a shark that was swimming lazily. The shark suddenly straitened and swam towards him. Stanley swore and dove out of the way, the shark sailing past him and out of the open doors.

"Thinker, shut the exterior airlock door," Stanley said, watching as the shark disappeared into the distance, probably catching scent of the fish that had accompanied him.

"_Request confirmed," _the computer responded. After a few seconds, the door ground closed, the light on the Flood/Drain interface lighting back up.

"_Scan complete. Human life signs: zero."_

Great. Just great. _Another_ dead district. _Jeez, if only it wasn't so wet around here._

"Are the pumps working, Thinker?"

"_Negative. Status: Inactive,"_ the Thinker replied. Stanley cursed and looked back into the airlock. A sudden thought occurred to him.

"Hey, Thinker. Do you think you could keep the interior door open whilst the drainage pumps for the airlocks are working? Would that be possible?"

"_Estimated time for drainage of SNA: fifty three minutes. Do you wish to proceed? Manual assistance required,"_ Thinker responded. Without a moment's hesitation, Stanley reached forward and flipped the lever. The interior door moved to close, but it halted halfway before grinding back down. Bubbles began streaming from the pumps as they replaced water with air.

"Thanks. Do you reckon you could make the pumps work faster?"

Without a response, the pumps began to work twice as hard, causing Stanley to grip on to the nearest wall.

"_Estimated time for drainage of SNA: twenty six point five minutes."_


	7. Chapter 7

Shivering, Becky forced one foot in front of the other as she entered one of the hideouts of the Saturnine, fighting the urge to either run or throw up. Or both. Evidence of their rituals were clear all around the cave; corpses floated in different stages of decay around her, all with knives protruding from their hearts.

Lovely.

Straw figurines were placed in a line along the cave, leading towards an altar full of rotting fruit and vegetables. She looked about her fearfully, as though one of the figurines would leap at her and attack. She wasn't afraid for her health; she was confident that her truce with the Saturnine would protect her from harm. She just hated being surprised, that feeling when your heart stops momentarily and your temperature briefly skyrockets.

She took a deep breath to steel herself before she did what she never thought she'd do. Summon the Saturnine Court.

She reached into her pocket and withdrew a circular lighter, a gift from her mother which just so happened to be identical to the lighter Grace Holloway owned. Not that she knew that of course. They'd never met.

She flicked the lid and began to lean forward when her world exploded around her.

Red velvet curtains blossomed on the rocky walls, grotesque corpses morphed into angels sleeping on the floor with their neon halos and wings whilst rose petals usurped pools of blood. Where the straw figurines had been, elegantly kept topiaries depicted different animals whilst the stone alter filled with rotting food was replaced by a white clothed table filled with luxurious delicacies.

Becky slowly looked down at herself. She appeared to be wearing a lovely green silk dress, complimented by black high heels and black silk gloves that reached her elbows. In the polished marbled floor below she was freshly washed, her brown hair tumbling in silky waves down her shoulders, her lips red and her cheeks slightly blushed against milk white shin.

She looked…beautiful.

Which is exactly why she began to cry.

She cried broken heartedly, for she knew that despite the wonderful images she was seeing, she knew it just wasn't true. That's why the Little Sister's mental conditioning wears off at a certain age; no-one could remain naïve for ever. They became too old to carry on believing such fantasies, began questioning what they were doing. Why are the angels here? How did they get here? If they are giving angels kisses, why are they using instruments rather than their lips? And thus starts the realization that their life is a lie. Realizing the irony of Rapture being the exact opposite as they grew up, being the descent into Hell rather than the ascent into Heaven.

All this being said, why was she still able to see it?

Something buzzed at her side, desperately trying to get her attention. She looked to her left to see her old elite security bot hovering anxiously beside her. Seeing him reminded her how her life was _supposed_ to look like and her ersatz world shattered, reverting back to the horror of Rapture. She reached out and stroked its red casing, running her fingers over the name plate that had been welded on to the bot before she had hacked and re-activated it: _Bradley._

"Thanks Bradley," she said, highly aware that Bradley was the only thing in the world she had to keep her company.

She looked back down at the floor, checking that everything was back to the way it was supposed to in the blood saturated cave water. Her lank, greasy hair fell in clumps around her neck, hopelessly knotted whilst her chapped lips were pursed with sadness. The pitiful amount of makeup she'd scavenged from purses whose owners had long since died had been ruined by her tears, eyeliner running twin tracks down her face. She hastily scrubbed them away and hoped that her eyes weren't too puffy. She couldn't show weakness, not to _them_.

She turned back to the straw figurine and quickly lit it. The figure caught on immediately, followed closely by the others as the fire worked down the chain. She stood and waited for the Court to arrive.

She didn't have to wait for long.

The very air warped as a Houdini Splicer teleported into the cave right in front of her, both fists tightly grasping a ball of fire, ready to throw at a moments notice.

"Give me one good reason not to sacrifice your carcass to Saturn right now," the Splicer growled, his face covered by a blood splattered mask of tree bark. Becky put her hands on her hips and raised her chin defiantly. The splicer was so close she could feel their blood scented breath on her face.

"Because I'm the only one who keeps Rapture topped up with the oxygen vital for survival, moron," she replied, displaying more courage then she felt. She needed to assert herself amongst these people, or truce or not they'd tear her apart.

"Oh, hello Becky," the Splicer brightened, removing his mask to reveal a male face, his youth not quite lost behind the ADAM abuse.

"Hello Frond," she replied. As per their nature worshipping…nature, they'd all re-named themselves after plants. It seemed more like what kids do when they make a club, but whatever. Each to their own. Frond was easily the most tolerable Saturnine of the cult, and appeared the most normal. And because of this, he was never used for important thinks in the cult, as he wasn't as dedicated as others. He still partook in the sacrifices and drinking the Blood/ADAM cocktails, yet he was still viewed on as "un devoted."

"I suppose you want the Court then?" he asked, sitting into his hip and folding his arms.

"I do if you wouldn't mind," Becky replied. Frond sighed and reapplied his mask, before disappearing with the painful sound of tearing flesh.

Becky hummed tunelessly to herself as she waited. Again, she didn't have to wait for long. The room temporarily fragmented like broken glass as a result of the mass teleportation, before calming to reveal the assembly of the Saturnine Court.

Becky struggled to remain still, her instincts ordering her to _gtf outta there!_

She couldn't bolt though. Not if she wanted to remain in power of Arcadia. She did however squeak and jumped slightly back, much to her embarrassment.

The court was arranged in a horse shoe shape, the leaders in the middle whilst the followers flanked either side. There were about fifty Saturnine members in total, their number decimated several years ago by the same guy that was there when her mother died. She knew that he wasn't directly involved with her death, but he'd been there.

"Langford! What is the meaning of this interruption?" A sever sounding woman shouted. She extracted herself from the direct centre, her face hidden behind a mask made from woven vines.

Belladonna. Leader of the Saturnine.

"Right, listen up! I have a proposition to…propose to you," Becky announced. She felt her cheeks grow warm with fear, her mind desperately trying to conjure up coherent sentences that were defiantly _not_ like the one she had just used. Bradley buzzed encouragingly at her side.

"We have tolerated you for several years now Rebecca. You shall be respectful to us in our place or worship, and address us accordingly," the woman said, her eyes flashing with anger. She reached up and hooked her fingers into the vines, pulling the mask off of her face.

"Tolerated me? I have _tolerated_ you. You have invaded my district and have drained its recourses, and what do you contribute? Nothing. You are as much a parasite as any surface dweller who finds his or her way down here. Be grateful that I don't have you forcibly removed. And by the way, it's Becky. Remember that, unless you want me to start calling you Donna. Do you want that? Donna, leader of the Saturnine? Or perhaps Bella," Becky retorted, her fear blotted out as anger took hold. Who the hell did this woman think she was, squatting in _her_ district and mooching off _her_ land? Belladonna reddened.

"Fine then, _Becky_. What is this "deal" you speak of?" Belladonna enquired.

"Ouch, didn't think it was possible to put so much poison into a word," her voice quivered slightly, "Anyway, I'm sure you heard the message over the radio, the one about cleaning. Well, what I am about to say is tied in with that. I propose to you this. Rapture had a hell of a lot of ADAM saturated dead bodies, and I know a _local_ cult that loves to drink ADAM saturated blood. See where I'm going with this?"

Belladonna looked astonished.

"Child, you're talking about supplying us with enough blood for thousands of rituals. Why would you offer such a gift?" Belladonna asked, her previous anger forgotten.

"Believe me, giving you the blood is just a byproduct of my goal. We're cleaning up Rapture, and you're getting rid of the bodies. You doing service and being paid with whatever you can get from the corpses."

"I'm sure you haven't thought this through. What will become of the drained corpses, store then in our shrines? Or perhaps re-circulate though the city's food, I've heard through the grape vine that there's a shortage…"

"The Eternal Flame is still active in the Medical Pavilion as far as I'm aware. You will also be responsible for taking them to be properly cremated."

Belladonna considered this, her lips slowly curving into her approximation of a smile.

"Your deal is very appealing. If you allowed us to do this, we would not only tend the trees but aid in the revival of the city. There is one condition though."

"What more could you want?"

"A guarantee that none of us will be harmed whilst cleaning the corpses. We are few, and cannot afford to lose any more followers."

"Get that grace?" Becky said, raising the radio that had transmitted the entire conversation.

"_Yeah, I got it. One sec."_

Becky raised a finger, silencing Belladonna before she could speak.

"_Attention Rapture. In aid to the revival of the city, we have employed a cult known as the Saturnine to clean away corpses. They will be disposed of swiftly, and they shall NOT be interrupted at any cost. They will be wearing masks made of bark or vines, so you will know who they are. Family, we are not only ascending the steps of Imago, but uniting our city as one. We are not just the Family, or the Saturnine. We. Are. Rapture!"_

Nice going Grace. Nothing like an inspirational speech.

"So, do we have a deal?"


	8. Chapter 8

"_Rapture integrity diagnostic complete."_

Grace was roused from her sleep, momentarily tensing at the sound of Thinker's voice, her heart fluttering with minute shock.

She looked at the clock. She been asleep for less than fifteen minutes, yet she felt as well rested as though it had been fifteen hours. It wasn't a physical comfort she experienced, more of a mental relaxation, her mind un-plagued by nightmares or worries.

Perhaps she was doing the right thing after all.

"_Grace Holloway, is your radio equipment functional?"_ Thinker, enquired.

"Yeah, I'm listening. Go ahead. Gimme the bad news…"

"_Certainly. Rapture's buildings are 53% functional, 15% non-functional, and 32% negotiable. This is an estimate based on Rapture after the successful drainage of Siren Alley, which will complete in approximately 6 minutes twenty nine seconds."_

Grace nodded. This was better than expected, although it didn't mean there was less work. The functional building would still need cleaning, and would be broken in places.

"And what does negotiable mean in this instance?"

"_Inundated. These districts are either completely or near-completely flooded. This can be rectified with the deployment of pumps to remove the water and repairing the cause of the flooding. For example, replacing broken glass and stone, corroded metal and ruptured pipes. The most notable of this is 1: the inundation of the district ADR or "Adonis Resort", 2: the inundation of the district IFS or "Iris Filming Studios", 3: the inundation of the district HMZ or "Hermes Zoo". The other 15% of no-functional means the buildings are destroyed, with slim chance of revival. The most notable of this is 1: the tunnels that interconnect between Rapture, 2: the loss of the district HBC or "Hydra Business Complex", 3: the loss of the district PNE…"_

"PNE?" Grace briefly remembered Miss Langford's report. She'd reported the offline seismic sensors in the district PNE.

The district that possibly had served as Lamb's hideout.

"Thinker, this is important. What is PNE?" Grace asked, her voice determined.

"_PNE is the Rapture city code for the district named "Per…"ERROR, ERROR. Override code 34. One moment please."_

Grace stared at the speaker, confused as to _what on earth just happened?_

"_Reboot complete. Resuming conversation. I'm sorry, it appears I have no knowledge of what the Rapture code PNE stands for."_

"What was the whole error thing for?" Grace demanded.

"_Question. What "error thing"?"_

"You were about to tell me what PNE stood for when you started saying error, and something about a code."

"_I did? I have no recollection of such an event…"_

"You did," Grace insisted.

The Thinker paused, his AI reeling with possibilities as he tried to deduce what could have happened.

"_Was it perhaps an activation code? And override code…?"_

"Override code, that's the one. Override code thirty four."

"_Due to the fact that your verbal sequencing didn't activate the override, I presume that this code was built in and is activated when certain parameters are met. I must have known what PNE stood for to activate code 34, and when activated, the override must have temporarily erased the data."_

"Great…"

"_It matters not. Rapture is a big place, and someone must know where PNE is."_

"I suppose you're right. So, where were we?"

"_Resuming previous conversation. The tunnels contribute 0.2% of structural loss. As they cannot be repaired, they will need to be replaced. Luckily, this is possible."_

"What, you can replace the tunnels?"

"_Yes. Are you aware of the Rapture based company Securis?"_

Who wasn't aware of Securis? They provided most of the bulkhead doors that kept the city dry. They were the reason they were all still alive.

"That reminds me. We need to replace a lot of the Securis doors."

"_Of course. Besides doors, Securis also has a warehouse filled with telescopic tunnel replacements. Made entirely out of metal and glass, these tunnels take the place of the old ones. The broken tunnels will need to be cleared away. One that is done, the tunnel will automatically latch onto the buildings around an exposed Securis brand door. That done, the tunnel will begin to extent towards the adjacent building. A hose is attached and air will need to be pumped in, the water expelled through another. Once the pressure is equalized, the doors will automatically be of use. No manual aid needed in assembly, as the tunnel replacements are equipped with propellers and due to their shape are streamlined in water. I'm sure the use of Big Daddies can be employed to attach the air and water hoses. May I suggest though, that all broken tunnel debris be cleared immediately. Permission to activate demolition micro-charges?"_

"The what now?" Grace's mind was numb, unable to understand. Since when was Securis working on this? That was the trouble of living in the Drop; no news seemed to get to them.

"_Charges embedded within the structure of every tunnel in Rapture. Originally intended to separate districts should pestilence threaten Raptures population."_

"Now hold on! What about the tunnels that curve? The tunnels that form junctions? The ones that rest on the sea floor? How are they replaced?"

"_I have information confirming that each of these telescopic tunnels are specially made for a specific tunnel. Curved tunnels are designed differently to strait ones, and tunnels that form junctions come in more than one piece. These tunnels will need to be wired, as they contained cameras and screens. Never the less, these tunnels will need to be repaired. The sea surface tunnels are fitted with low level buoyancy equipment. When the charges are set off, a chemical reaction is also set off. This fills a buoyancy aid full of air and raises the tunnel, though it is chained to the sea floor to prevent drift. After the replacement tunnel is secured, the previous tunnel is dismantled."_

Grace thought about this. This was amazing. Districts that had been cut off from the rest of the city could once again rejoin with them, districts like Minerva's Den and Fontaine Futuristics. Tunnels destroyed near Rapture's entrance could be restored, allowing people to join them...

Not that anyone would. Obviously.

"Okay then. You sure it won't flood us?"

"_Affirmative."_

"And you're only targeting the damaged tunnels?"

"_Affirmative."_

"Well, I guess you have my permission."

"_Thank you. One moment please."_

All around Rapture, micro charges were detonated behind Securis doors. Flooded tunnels shattered into chunks whilst others merely fell of the buildings and sank into the depths. At Fontaine Futuristics, the ends of the already obliterated tunnel were repulsed from the buildings, the metal buckling as they came to rest on the sea floor, the path clear for the tunnel replacement whilst the snaking tunnel at Minerva's den was toppled of its support beams, disintegrating.

"_Detonations successful. Eighteen tunnels successfully destroyed. Permission to deploy the replacement tunnels?"_

"Permission granted."

Across the city in a forgotten warehouse, several green lights simultaneously blinked on. Some flickered after years of never being used, but soon all were glowing strong. A mechanical arm on rails began systematically picking up the metal tunnels from the hundreds stored (which currently resembled nothing more than sections of tunnel) and dropping them in the warehouse's diving pool, gleaming bronze in the low light. Upon contact with the water, the tunnel sections instantly activated their propellers and sped of to their individual destinations, homing in on their assigned Securis brand bulkhead door. The warehouse arm automatically powered down, poised to repeat its task should it be called upon in the future. The rust proof tunnels make quick progress through the city, each arriving at their destinations in under a minute where they hovered, waiting for the last of their brethren to complete their journey. Once all was ready, the tunnels inched forward whilst internal sensors and gyroscopes ensured they were in the correct alignment, propellers letting out sporadic bursts to rectify any problems. The tunnels latched onto their doors with magnetic clamps within milliseconds of each other, immediately beginning to extend. Gears ground as the telescopic tunnels reached for their adjacent doors, the greased rollers smoothly unfurling each segment simultaneously. Some replacement tunnels didn't have to stretch far, whilst others had to bridge a gap so wide that two tunnels were required, extending towards each other rather than to another door. Other tunnels extended so far before they began to curve, as though one side had hit an invisible barrier whilst the other size carried on extending, forced to curve due to the other side's inability to continue. And where it came to junctions, a combination of extensions, turns and multiple tunnels ensured people were able to safely exit a district and decide to go left or right, or maybe strait on. When all of the tunnels were fully extended, extra water was pumped in, allowing the smaller pieces of the tunnel to expand so that every segment was the same size. With a final stretch, the magnetic clamps either clamped onto their designated door or the end of another tunnel, allowing the tunnels to power down.

The green lights flickered off near simultaneously.

"_Stage one of tunnel repair's complete. Stage two will require the use of exterior help. May I suggest the use of the Big Daddies here in Minerva's Den? As they have never left the district, I have studied them intensely and I think I can devise a way of employing their use."_

"Sure, go ahead. Are you gonna be okay doing that whilst I go and talk to my people?"

"_Certainly. Request. Take a radio with you so that I can contact you."_

"Sure thing," Grace replied, slowly easing herself out of her chair. Though it had happened a while ago, her body was still in pain from the earthquake.

She reached over and grabbed her hand held radio before turning to leave.


	9. Chapter 9

"_In the house of upside-down, cellar's top floor, attic's ground."_

The Little Sister was bent over an angel, her double voice ringing throughout the ballroom. The high, feminine side of her voice echoed off the hard surfaces whilst the low, bass tone dissipated into the gloom. She didn't know what part of Rapture she was in anymore; she'd wandered for what felt like days, crawling though vents and stumbling though bulk head doors. Some forgotten district, long since deserted, leaving behind the ADAM ripe angels.

And as all Little Sisters know, good girls gather.

"_I'm a good girl_," she whispered, only half understanding why she'd spoken at all. She thrust her needle deep within the angels heart, exactly how she'd been taught to kiss.

You should only kiss angels. Never kiss your Daddy. He won't like it.

That had made her cry at first. How could she not kiss her daddy? But eventually she understood. These were _special_ kisses that only angels could receive. It would be bad for Daddy if she kissed him, and she never did.

But still, she missed her Daddy so much it hurt.

_In the house of upside-down, laughing cries and smiles frown._

Where was he? She kissed the angel again and again, suddenly using both hands to thrust the needle into the angel's heart. Rose petals repeatedly flew from the angel's chest, fluttering to the ground and caressing her face as they fell. They tickled as they stroked her cheek, but for some reason she didn't like it. These were the things that she had to gather; she had to drink as many petals as she could because it would make her feel happy, and the petals would be later used to spread happiness throughout the population. The rose petals meant the angels _liked_ the kisses, but upon seeing them they only made her more upset. How could she even consider happiness without him? _Where was he!?_ She pushed the needle in so far that she heard something crack, and she suddenly couldn't pull it back out. She pursed her bottom lip and tried to take the needle out of the angel. She grasped the handle in her left hand and the base in her right. She pulled as hard as she could, but she couldn't dislodge her needle.

With one last try, the Little Sister grasped her extractor and heaved, Arthur yanking Excalibur out of the stone.

She felt something give and she fell backwards.

She hit her head as she fell, the extractor grasped tightly in her hand. Light dazzled behind her closed eyelids and she could taste something that reminded her of the rose petals that had erupted from the angel not moments ago. She smiled and raised her right hand to see her extractor…and froze.

She was only grasping the handle.

She quickly raised her head, only to experience something she'd never felt before. A strange sensation that seemed to change which way was up and made her tummy hurt. It passed quickly, but the Little Sister looked up slowly to avoid such an odd feeling in an otherwise beautiful world. There, sticking out of the angel's chest was the needle part of the extractor. The Little Sister scrambled on her hands and knees, ignoring the same odd feeling.

"_Nonononononono…"_ she whispered, kneeling beside the angel. She inspected the needle. Perhaps it had simply been pulled off, something that could easily be repaired by jamming it back on. Tears began to fill her eyes. The end of the needle had sheared off, wicked shards of metal poking out of the end.

Without her extractor, she couldn't gather.

"_But good girls gather!"_ she whispered, "_I'm a…bad girl."_

The realization was crushing. She was a bad girl. _She was a bad girl!_

Petals that clung to the end of the needle suddenly began to melt, as though the petals had been made from shavings of red ice. Liquid slowly tracked down the side of the metal, which had begun to darken from a gleaming chrome to a dull rusty bronze, evidently tarnished with age. Like a pestilence, age seemed to spread from the melting rose petals. The Little Sister slowly rose to her feet, her breath coming out in sharp sobs, her eyes wide with fear. The marble floor cracked and yellowed as the fingers of age spiraled away from the angel, whose halo and wings faded. As age and devastation spread throughout the room, the angel began to transform before her disbelieving eyes. Sculpted features began to run as though a freshly painted masterpiece had been doused in water, becoming something grotesque.

"_Daddy!" _she screamed in horror, watching as the angel transformed into a monster, its face contorted with anguish and mutilation.

As if on cue, the entire room transformed in a flash of light.

What she had perceived to be a beautiful ballroom had twisted and buckled, as though attacked by the devil himself.

"_Monsters killed the angels," _she sobbed, sinking to her knees. The extractor handle fell from between her fingers and clattered to the ground, leaking more red liquid as the tiny glass bottle shattered. Nothing had been left in good repair; once glowing white balconies which had overlooked the dance floor were either blackened by fire, sagging with damage or obliterated altogether, lying as rubble below. Every lighting fixture in the room had been smashed, the only light coming from the huge glass ceiling which looked up into the sea, separated into two by a thick band of metal. The Little Sister wailed mournfully, covering her mouth with both hands. All around her, monsters littered the floor, all wearing ball gowns and fancy suits, stained red. In the centre, several monsters were pinned under the twisted remains of a chandelier, limbs tangled in rust stained metal. A steady stream of sea water fell from a rip in the metal band where the chandelier had once hung, washing over the bodies below. She saw that the monsters were splattered with the same red liquid that had spilled from her extractor. She chocked back disgust. The red liquid is what she'd been aiming to drink after gathering, but the smell now assaulted her senses. It smelled of rust and salt, the opposite of the fragrant rose petals. And on top of that, the red liquid that seemed to splatter every surface in the room was _leaking _from the monsters. She fought the urge to be sick, then panicked as she'd never needed to be sick in her life.

She stared up into the ocean, clutching her stomach. Buildings rose around the one she was in, towering structures that resembled the jagged teeth of some aquatic creature. It made it look like she'd been swallowed, and was looking out into the ocean from the creature's throat.

As she was about to flee the room, something glinted to the left of her vision, flashing gold as it moved.

_I never thought that color would exist here._

She turned her head towards the direction of the light_. _Something was moving though the water, swimming up towards something bronze that bridged two of the buildings close to the ballroom she stood in. She squinted, trying to see whatever it was clearer. The golden figure snapped into finer focus. It was human in shape, two arms, two legs and a head. What she'd thought was gold appeared to be shining armor, with some sort of long weapon at its side. A sword perhaps?

_D…Daddy?_

She knew it couldn't be him. She'd seen the monsters attack him with demonic fire, using metal poles which spat death to pull him over. But the golden figure…_figures _now; another had joined the first. But the golden fig_ures_ looked so much like the valiant knight she'd lost not long ago. The one that she missed dearly.

The Little Sister suddenly sat down with her legs crossed, mesmerized by the sight of these two figures as they tugged what appeared to be a cylinder, just like the ones that Big Sister's had that she drew on, onto the bronze tunnel. One figure took a hose and attached it to the tunnel whilst the other did something to the cylinder. She didn't understand what they were doing at first, but she soon understood. She could vaguely make out the lowering water level in the tunnel if she squinted hard enough. The water was entirely drained from the tunnel within minutes, signified by someone appearing on the inside to give a thumbs up to the knights above. The knight to the left nodded and swam away, dragging the cylinder away and out of view. The other stayed and surveyed its surroundings, its body poised to swim away. The Little Sister's lip suddenly quivered. _The Daddies were leaving! _She suddenly jumped to her feet and frantically waved in the direction of the Big Daddy, desperate to catch its attention. The Big Daddy turned to leave.

"_MR. BUBBLES!"_ the Little Sister shrieked, desperation amplifying her voice. And high up on the bronze bridge, though water, glass and metal, the Big Daddy's helmet whipped round to face her. The Big Daddy crouched on the tunnel, and with an almighty leap, propelled itself out into open water.

The Little Sister could have cried. She watched joyfully as the Big Daddy soared though the water. The Big Daddy's jump took it directly above the ceiling, where it began to fall, dragged down by the weight of it armor.

_Armor? No, that doesn't look right…_

_Why is Daddy not wearing his armor? But…but he _needs_ the armor, to protect her! It looked more like a suit now, made of material rather than metal._

_And why did his sword looks strange?_

As the Big Daddy drew closer, the Little Sister stood up and began to slowly back away, her mouth dropping.

That wasn't her Daddy. It wasn't _anyone's_ Daddy.

It landed on the ceiling.

She stared up at the grime encrusted…_demon_ that was now crouching on the glass. She stared into its glowing porthole, which in turn, stared back. She gasped and fell over backwards, her leg caught on a monster's limb. Her head hurt even worse than last time, and she felt it begin to throb. She felt her hair being splattered by sea water, and realized she was lying near the broken chandelier, amongst the twisted monsters and metal. The demon tracked her progress, and she saw its porthole flare as she fell. It walked on the glass towards the source of the pouring water, and reached for the weapon she'd mistaken for a sword. She recognized it immediately. She'd only ever seen one before, and it had been used to take her Daddy down.

The tube that spat death.

She screamed and covered her face with her arm, trembling with fear. There was a flash of bright light, and she couldn't feel the water falling on her head any more. There was no pain, just the darkness and silence. She lowered her hand, and rested it on the floor beside her, relaxing into the floor. No one could hurt her now. No monster, no demon.

No one could hurt her again.

She could see her Daddy again.

She frowned. She could still feel the water and cold tiles under her fingertips, much to her surprise. Her eyes flew open to see that she was still in the ballroom, rather than back with the angels.

She hadn't been killed.

She looked up. The demon was looking at her, its tube aimed at the metal band. The metal was glowing red where the water had fallen from. Its head was tilted sideways, a look she recognized from her Daddy. It was a quizzical gesture, and she knew the monster was asking; _what was wrong?_

"_I'm fine. Just a little hurtey,"_ she muttered. She heard the demon growl in response before swimming away.

The Little Sister stood, dumb founded. She recognized that growl. She couldn't place it, but she knew that it was a common sound for her, the memory teetering at the edge of her mind, just out of her reach.

And just like that, it clicked.

That was a Daddy. It wasn't a demon. It was a Daddy, just like her Daddy had been.

Her Daddy had been a demon.

Just as the bile rose to her throat, the world contracted back into itself, retreating back into the needle as though it was extracting all of the evil from the room. Heaven was restored around her, the monsters switching back to angels in the blink of an eye and the hellish devastation fixing itself in a second.

But now, she knew differently.

She now knew that there were two worlds. One was the epitome of heaven, the other, the living embodiment of hell. Daddies could transform into demons, presumably to fight the monsters when they transformed from angels.

She heard a noise behind her.

She turned around in time to see a man appear out of thin air. He picked up a nearby angel and disappeared with the sound of wind chimes. She grasped her head, afraid it was going to hurt again. She'd seen too much already today, and less was making sense as it continued. The man returned moments later, only to pick up another angel and disappear again. She heard wind chimes behind her, and whirled around to watch a woman vanish with a male angel in her arms. Wind chimes on the other side of the room, only to overlap with the wind chimes that sounded nearby. She whirled around helplessly, trying to track the source of the noises as several people kept appearing and disappearing, taking angels with them.

_Perhaps they are being taken back to where they came from. _

Most of the angels were gone when her vision flickered, and she descended back into hell. Monsters covered in red were appearing with the sickening sound of tearing and dragging other monsters from the ground, disappearing again. Monsters were tearing monsters from the rusted chandelier, ribbons of rotted flesh flying in all directions. She bent over and retched.

Her world shifted yet again, and she watched as glitter streamed from her mouth, fluttering to the floor and covering her gleaming shoes. Wiping glitter from her mouth, she reassessed her environment. There was only one angel left, lying on the floor directly beside her feet. She collapsed on top of it, determined to cling onto the angel for dear life. She heard wind chimes again.

She slowly looked up. The man in front of her had warm brown eyes, with chocolate colored hair. He wore a black suit and stood with a regal posture.

_A Prince_, she gasped.

"What's your name, child?" the man's voice was beautiful, instantly soothing her.

"_H-Holly,"_ she said, scrambling to her feet. She didn't think it; the name was a reflex response, "_What's yours_?"

"Frond," the man smiled, his teeth a spectacular shade of white, "Where's your protector, Holly?"

Holly's face crumpled, the pain on her face was a clearer answer than if she'd vocalized it.

The Prince stooped down and wrapped an arm around her. She cried onto his shoulder, conscious that she may have been ruining the material of his suit.

"_Do y-you know w-wh-where I a-am?"_ she managed the whisper between sobs.

"I believe we are in one of the ballrooms of The Seven Muses. Do you know how you got here?" Prince Frond asked. She held up her hands, palms upwards, showing that she didn't know. The Prince sighed.

"Come with me," he said, and scooped her up into his arms. She scrambled onto his back, just as she would have done with her Daddy. The Prince laughed and leant forward. He held the hand of the last angels and then there was darkness, the sound of wind chimes echoing in her ears.

_In the house of upside-down, found is lost and lost is found_.


	10. Chapter 10

Sitting on the floor whilst Siren Alley was being drained gave Stanley plenty of time to think. He was still holding onto the side of the airlock, the currents still far too strong to move in. The water levels were just reaching the top of his head, and were slowly lowering further.

His lips were pursed in frustration.

Though he hadn't allowed her to disrupt his thoughts earlier, Kate O'Malley had muscled her way in whilst his mind wasn't occupied with thoughts of staying alive.

How had she known where he was? He could have been anywhere in Rapture, and since it was several years since he'd flooded Dionysus Park, he could have been dead for all she knew. He'd hidden for so long and hidden well it was nearly inconceivable that she could have known he'd returned. Anything could have happened in that time, yet she'd persisted to kill him, despite the fact that "time heals all wounds".

Everyone had done something unspeakable in Rapture, why did he deserve death any more than they? And why now, just as he was doing something right for a change?

He watched as the water level reached the top of his porthole and began to descend further.

Why had Kate even made it her personal goal to pursue Stanley for his sins? He barely spoke to her, except for the occasional conversations at parties she'd attended either as maintenance staff or as a member of The Family. Maybe she felt it necessary to avenge her fellow Family members, when Lamb had refused to punish him. Or maybe she had another reason to punish him that he wasn't aware of.

Stanley frowned. He should have made sure that she'd been there when he'd sealed everyone in. That could have avoided this situation if he'd been attentive.

"_Stanley Poole?"_

Stanley nearly jumped out of his suit. _Jeez, I'm way too jumpy today._

"What do you want, Thinker?" Stanly gasped, clutching his heart.

"_Drainage of Siren Alley is complete."_

Stanley looked about him. He was no longer submerged, but the water level rested at the top of the stairs, still submerging everything underneath, roughly mid-thigh high at the bottom of the steps

"Uh, Thinker? No it isn't. I think you need to recalibrate your sensors or summit…"

"_Due to the fact that the airlock it situated at a higher level than the ground level of Siren Alley, the airlock cannot drain off any more water."_

"Can't the drains do the rest?"

"_There is a leak in the pumping station. Water drained off will just be replaced."_

"Wait, there's a leak? I thought someone just left the doors open!" Stanley groaned, glancing exasperatedly down at the staircase to Siren Alley. The water was shallow enough not to cause a problem, but enough to irritate him in his current emotional state.

"_If there wasn't a leak, then the Siren Alley drains would have been able to drain off the water without the auxiliary pumps,"_ Thinker replied. If Stanley didn't know any better, he would have thought that Thinker was being condescending, "_It appears the pumping mechanisms have been overloaded, causing some pipes to rupture as well as the airlock being opened. This would have been done deliberately, as it would have flooded Siren Alley twice as fast. Fortunately, the pipes can be easily repaired with the application of heat to weld the pipes back together. As the pumps were only necessary to drain Dionysus Park, these pumps can be turned off. The leak would need to be repaired in Dionysus Park before this is possible, else we risk flooding again. I will have to run a diagnostic to locate the main leak…"_

Stanley guiltily wrung his hands but said nothing, knowing full well that he could make this guy's job easier by just telling him where the leak was.

"_After the pipes have been repaired, the Siren Alley drains will be able to drain off any more water. The airlock will siphon off water generated in the mean time. Unfortunately, the pumping station will still be either mostly or entirely submerged."_

Stanley sighed exasperatedly, but got up and began to wade into the water.__

"You're gonna have to help me Thinker; I don't know where everything is…wait! Application of heat? What am I gonna use to do that? Some sorta welder that can be used underwater?"

"_I have no record of any registered underwater welders in the Maintenance area."_

Stanley waited for the Thinker to continue, but he didn't.

"You gonna suggest how I'm meant to carry out your plan then?" Stanley snapped. He'd walked into the Little Eden Plaza, halting waist deep before continuing.

"_I was under the impression that Rapture's citizens were "spliced up" with plasmids, one of which is named Incinerate! Apparently I was mistaken. I must amend my data…"_

"Wait, your pissed 'cus I _ain't_ spliced up? Jeez, who created you? That's something to be proud of. It means I could keep my head, that I didn't join the rest of those crazies that go around killing anything that moves."

_Oh no, you kept your head alright. It's not like killing off an entire district just to keep a secret isn't a sane thing to do._

"_The name of my creator was Charles Milton Porter, who was aided by Reed Wahl. I apologize, as offence was not intended. I must advise though that you introduce the plasmid Incinerate! 3 to your body, as repairing the pipes is impossible without it."_

"I already have Incinerate!..."

"…_Question. Why did you complain then?"_

"It was the fact that you _assumed_ I had it. You shouldn't do that. Believe it or not, some people would be repulsed if you asked them the splice up. Anyways, I have Incinerate!, not Incinerate! 3. Why can't I just use mine?"

"_Incinerate! was only intended to create fires, rather than for the use of heat. If you tried to use Incinerate! underwater, the fire would dissipate. Incinerate! 3 enables the user to create a continuous jet of flame. This could be used to weld, as though the flames will still dissipate, at a close distance to the desired area, enough heat could be generated to fix the leaks. There are gloves available that workers use to concentrate the flames even further so the effect is enhanced." _

"Well that's all well and good, but you're forgetting something. Plasmids cost ADAM, and unfortunately, I don't have any on me-"

Stanley's hand suddenly flew to his pocket. The ADAM slug was still there, curled into a ball and moving slightly.

"Well, I don't have _enough_ on me. What am I supposed to do now?"

The Thinker paused, momentarily stumped.

"_I have an idea which may or may not be appropriate."_

"And that is…?"

"_You could go outside and retrieve the sea slugs which secrete ADAM."_

Stanly laughed.

"Seriously? You think I can go outside and gather ADAM slugs? Each ADAM slug has about ten ADAM in it, not nearly enough to get what I need, bearing in mind in need to get Incinerate! 2 as well as 3. I'd have to gather at least 30 slugs. I'm not even sure you can even _get_ Incinerate! 3 here-"

"_Check the Pneumo."_

Stanley straightened, suddenly wary of whatever the Thinker had sent him as a Pneumo nearby pinged. He'd provided enough valid argument's against him having to repair the pumps, right? He'd probably just sent him an underwater welder or something along those lines. Come to think of it, why hadn't he done that before?

Stupid robot…

Stanley waded through the water towards the Pneumo outside of a building called "The Pink Pearl" to his left, the light above flashing to indicate that it had received post.

Bodies and debris floated in the water, forcing Stanley to push them out of the way as he progressed towards his goal. The water bubbled above drains as they tried to remove the water which was being replaced at a rapid rate, though Stanley knew that the pumps in the airlock would remove the water as it got too high.

Being as quick as he could, Stanley flicked open the door of the Pneumo tube and removed the canvas bag which had appeared inside before too much water flooded the air dependant Pneumo system. A giant air bubble erupted around the closing door, signifying that a sizeable amount of water had eluded the Alley, speeding off down the tubes to flood even _more_ of Rapture.

Looking around him, Stanley located a flight of stairs and sprinted up them, relishing in the absence of the ever present pressure water presented when immersed.

He set himself down on the top stair and stretched his legs out, pulling the canvas bag onto his lap. He heard glass clink with the motion.

Stanley slowly opened the bag, grimacing slightly as a red glow escaped.

Red equals ADAM. Or Plasmids.

He retrieved the two items from the bag before tossing it over the rail and into the water. He stared at them. In his left hand, he held a syringe labeled Incinerate! 3. In the other, a vial of glowing ADAM. The measuring scale on the side of the vial indicated that it contained 120 ADAM, which just so happened to be the correct amount for Incinerate! 2.

"And you didn't think of this before because…?" Stanley asked, staring into the syringe of Incinerate! 3, mesmerized by the swirling liquid inside.

"_It didn't occur to me,"_ Thinker replied simply.

Stanley muttered under his breath as he got to his feet. He walked across the walkways, straining his ears as he tried to listen for the obnoxious singing the Gatherers' Garden booth usually emitted. When he heard nothing, he descended the nearest stairs and slogged though the water, finally locating the vending machine right next to a Gene Bank. Both machines chimed as he neared, circus like music playing from the Gene Bank whilst a little girl sang "In the garden we are growin'!", both sounding off key. The sea water had probably damaged the speaker systems.

Stanley uncorked the vial of ADAM and poured it into the Gatherer's Garden receptacle, watching as the red liquid drained down and into the machine. Using the buttons, Stanley keyed in his selection. With a series of clunks and whirrs, Incinerate! 2 was deposited into the deposit compartment.

"I hate this part," Stanley groaned. Reaching for the Plasmid, he retrieved the syringe provided by the machine and held it in his right hand. Plasmid in the other, he sunk the needle into the lid of the bottle, pulling up the plunger upwards and filling the syringe with the Incinerate! 2. Plasmids were always sold in a bottle that catered for more than one person. This was a marketing ploy by Fontaine Futuristics and later copied by all other Plasmid companies as it appealed to the people who perhaps didn't have enough ADAM to purchase plasmids by themselves. They could band together and buy a bottle to share. It was also useful when t came to gifts, as someone could buy the full bottle of Plasmids and give them to their friends.

He pulled the syringe out of the bottle and dropped it, allowing the rest to spill across the floor. There was no one else here he could give it to, and in a populated area it would just make him a target.

He detached the glove on his left hand with a twist from the right, pulling it off with his teeth. This way he had something to bite on.

He yanked the sleeve of the suit up, exposing his forearm. With a strong thrust, the needle punctured the skin in his arm. He pushed the plunger down and felt acid spread though his system, burning as it re-wrote his genetic code, updating his previous Plasmid and forcing him to his knees with pain. His bit the glove so hard he could feel his teeth ramming into his skull, blood leaking from his gums whilst his vision blurred.

The pain receded before he could scream, retreating as the Plasmid became stable in the body. Stanley slumped on his knees, breathing hard. Before he could think about it, he grabbed the other plasmid and sank it into the same arm.

His back arced with agony, and he was unable to repress the scream which escaped from his lips. Unable to hold his body anymore, Stanley keeled over sideways, his helmet slamming against the floor as his vision completely blacked out.

A/N: I think I've hit that stage when the detail kinda goes down the toilet. I promise I have a story plan…well, a basic one, but I'm afraid it may take a few chapters. I'll try to get better, promise!


	11. Chapter 11

Despite having lived there for several years, Grace always had hated the Sinclair Deluxe. Well, perhaps not _hated_, more…despised. She despised the fact that Sinclair had built it to take advantage of those amongst Rapture who were scraping the bottom of the barrel whilst he had his hands in pockets throughout the city. She despised how poorly it had been built, entire hallways collapsing and walls crumbling through the application of cheap materials and last minute designing.

But what she despised the most, was the fact that it was the only place she belonged.

She slowly made her way across from her apartment to the other side of the floor. Water was still pouring from the crack in the inverted glass dome (or the Ocean-Light, their version of a Sky-Light) whilst butterflies fluttered tirelessly around lights amongst the tangle of power cables. She tutted, recalling how a cable had once detached from the ceiling due to their haphazard construction and electrocuted everyone standing in water in the immediate vicinity, resulting in two deaths. She stopped at the broken elevator and paused. The hallway beyond had been blocked of months ago, cutting off the stairs down. Luckily, a hole in the wall to the right had been created, opening up into a bathroom which lead on into a room whose floor had collapsed and fortunately formed an ersatz staircase. Pressing on, Grace descended the broken floor with the aid of her cane, gripping its bird-shaped handle as she tried to avoid slipping on the damp floor boards.

Stepping back onto level footing, she shuffled into another bathroom, which in turn lead into Gideon Wyborn's old apartment.

Grace glanced around the room. Blue butterflies clung to the walls, all opening and closing their wings in an eerie and silent unison, her presence in the room seemingly unapparent to them.

Of course. The Blue Morpho. The symbol of The Family, the onse hovering around the lights in the foyer. The butterfly that Wyborn had created "paper effigies" of so people could recognize other Family members. Of course, she never wore one herself. Why would she need to? Everyone in the Drop knew the great name of Grace Holloway; she had no trouble of mistaken identity.

She grimaced as she trudged out of the apartment and into water, shaking her shoes free of the clinging droplets before continuing down the corridor. It was perhaps the most damaged corridor in the hotel which hadn't yet caved in. Walls that separated the apartments had been entirely eradicated, making it impossible to tell where one apartment ended and the other began. Belongings were strewn across every surface as their inhabitants had left behind their lives to join the others in the pursuit of power, being in the form of Plasmids or weaponry.

A fire raged off to her left as pipes had been ruptured from some attack, and she could hear the motor of a turret nearby, ready to attack at a moments notice.

She barely made a sound as she progressed towards the exit, breathing though her mouth to avoid the ever present stench of sea-water and blood that hung in the air without the slightest breeze to remove it.

How could this have happened? How could they have let the city get so bad? It wasn't as tough they'd formed The Family after the attack on the Kashmir which began everything, they'd formed it ages ago. They should have been smarter. Heck, _she_ should have been smarter. They should have foreseen the damage that would ensue and try to prevent it somehow. Seriously, how do walls get destroyed? Only with the use of Plasmid or grenades, and why would they destroy walls _in their own homes?_

If only Plasmids didn't affect the mind, all of this destruction could have been avoided.

Grace descended another flight of steps and shook her head at the shrine created around a vent, a dead body lying across an alter-like table. Such a sacrifice was unnecessary. They all thought that they were contributing to the ADAM cycle, when in truth, there was enough ADAM in the corpses of Rapture to keep the remaining population sane for ten years, and that was if all of the Little Sisters disappeared. Of course, if the Little Sisters _did_ disappear, they'd have no one to extract the ADAM.

One problem after another.

The camera that had overlooked this particular corridor had been destroyed, the blackened casing still smoldering on the floor directly underneath. She'd have to replace it. Actually, maybe she _didn't_: maybe it wasn't necessary for the constant surveillance. Then again, now that The Thinker had decided to reveal himself, the cameras were the only way he could see around Rapture.

Working her way through the dark and twisting maze of rooms, Grace finally walked down the long, dark corridor that would lead her out of the Sinclair Deluxe and out towards her destination.

After walking through the streets of Paupers Drop, Grace gazed at the building where she used the work. The sign flickered above her head as she entered The Limbo Room. She could hear several voices murmuring amongst each other, hushed discussions as she walked over to the main room.

As soon as she entered, the room fell silent, each face turning towards her as their conversations were forgotten. She made her way over to the stage and rather than standing on it, she sat on the edge, resting her cane on the stage next to her. She reached into her pocket and withdrew another cigarette, lighting it with her lighter and taking a long drag before speaking.

"So. What's happened?" she spoke slowly, allowing the smoke to curl out of her mouth and up towards the ceiling.

She noticed that rubble which had previously covered the floor had been completely cleared away, and the tables had been recently wiped down.

Gideon cleared his throat.

"Well, the train car has been cleared away. We plan on using it to either patch up holes around the Drop, or as temporary housing, though I thing the first idea is most likely. We had Frederick smash the concrete the car originally destroyed into gravel which filled the hole, so there's one problem solved. There are holes throughout the Drop that we could fill with rubble from the damage too, so we have several Brute Splicers on that. Everyone's chipped in and they've done a good job; the fish bowl diner looks pretty neat and someone's even fixed the leak above where the train car was. We're getting there, but it's gonna take time. We're dangerously low on food, but I'm sure something can be done about that. As far as I can tell, we didn't lose any _more_ people this time."

Grace nodded, pleased with this report. She knew that he was referring to Delta rampaging through, killing of more than half the population of the Drop.

They couldn't afford to lose any _more_.

She took another drag from her cigarette.

"As you were," Grace said, nodding to the assembled group in the room. Several splicers turned back to one another, unsure whether to resume their conversations or remain silent in the presence of Grace Holloway.

Noticing the remaining silence, Grace laughed once, without humor.

"You can talk in front of me you know."

"It's just…"

"Just what?" Grace asked, turning towards the man who spoke.

The man shuffled uncomfortably.

"It's just that…with Lamb gone, you're technically in charge, Miss," he replied, his accent British.

Grace shook her head closed her eyes, inhaling heavily.

"What has Lamb done to us?"

The room, already still, froze. Though no one had been moving, it was as though everyone had turned to statues, shocked at what Grace had just said.

"W-what do you mean?" a woman stuttered.

"I mean, what has Lamb _done _to us? I'm nothing special, and you're all treatin' me as though I'm a queen!" Grace suddenly became angry, "Jeez, I'm just like you! Stop being so…formal. It's like she's brainwashed us all into following a leader blindly."

"With all due respect…"

"There ain't any due respect."

"…you're the only person who we've heard ordering the _entire city_. You're the one who told us that we should tidy, that you've sorted out the corpse problem. You're the one leading us, Grace. Not Ryan. Not Fontaine. Not _Sofia_. You. And we haven't been brainwashed by Lamb, we _want_ to follow you," the woman finished, her eyes focused intently on Grace's face. She looked around the room and saw several people nodding in agreement, every eye on her.

_I didn't think this entirely through_, Grace realized. She hadn't considered being treated differently. Yeah, people had been more respectful to her than others because she was Lamb's right hand partner, but she hadn't expected to be suddenly _raised on a dias_!

She didn't want to be treated like that. The _last_ thing Rapture needed was another tyrannical leader. For a city without religion, where there were "No Gods Or Kings, Only Man," these people still needed a leader.

Perhaps Ryan had been wrong. Maybe it was impossible to build a city where everyone worked for themselves. The rallies that Ryan and Lamb had participated in had been a fine example of that; people cheering for who they wanted in power. They were practically _voting_.

Grace finally looked up again.

"Fine then. I'm the one I charge. But that don't mean things have to change. In fact, things _won't_ change. I'm to be treated as I used to, as a friend, not a ruler. Is that clear?"

"Is that an order?"

Grace didn't see who spoke, but their comment stopped her in her tracks. People in charge gave orders. She would be a hypocrite if she commanded them to treat her normally.

"No," she amended, "_Please_, treat me as you used to. That isn't an order, it's a request from an old woman who's tired of watching leaders fail."

* * *

Sander Cohen couldn't believe his eyes.

He was standing on the stage in Fleet Hall, after having scrambled onto it for a better look.

The seating area had been entirely cleared of both rubble _and_ bodies. But that was insane! He'd never asked for that to be done! The entire theatre was a work of art that _HE ALONE HAD CREATED!_

Who dare defile it?! It was a reflection of Rapture, the bodies encased in plaster representing its citizens whilst the meticulously placed rubble represented devastation.

With a clench of his stomach, Cohen teleported out of the theatre and into the main atrium.

The water feature that he'd created on the stairs as a reminder of Rapture's location had been repaired, the glass blurry where the leak had been as though some one had used a laser to melt the glass back together. All of the glass from the smashed shop windows has been cleared away, and even his beloved Quadtych hadn't escaped the wave of reconstruction; all that remained were a few areas of plaster where each figure had been torn away. Sander sprinted down the steps and screamed with fury.

He teleported to every room in Fort Frolic, checking each and every act of defiling. Some rooms had been entirely cleared of anything those without an artists' eye would perceive as "destroyed," ranging from rubble off the ceilings to the rubbish from bins. The frozen tunnel he'd created as a testament to Andrew Ryan had been entirely thawed, ice water slowly draining away. But that was impossible! The only way someone could do that was hack the climate control system and change it manually, which would require the keys he always kept on him.

The body of the long deceased worker in Eve's Garden had been removed, along with the blood stains around the room and the bed sheets she'd been resting on.

Every room he went, Sir Prize, the Tabacoria, even Rapture Records!

Everything had been altered some how.

Sander teleported back to his room in the Mercury Suits, utterly devastated.

His life's work had been destroyed. It had all been ruined! There had been no one but him who had been in Fort Frolic in _eight years_, and in one day it seemed as though the entire of Rapture had swept though and..and…_tidied_ everything! What kind of splicer tidied everything?

Rapture was supposed to be a place where the artist need not fear the censor…

Maybe it had been something to do with the radio messages he'd heard earlier. He didn't understand them though; he'd been entirely immersed in bloody sea water in his bath tub at the time, and hadn't heard what had been said.

Well, it was time he got some answers.

Sander once again teleported out of his room and into the projection booth of Fleet hall, where the radio equipment for Fort Frolic was stored.


	12. Chapter 12

The sounds of falling water were mostly all there was to disturb the peace in Minerva's Den, but then again where didn't it? It was a very quiet place, the mildly tainted silence being a nice change from intermittent explosions of conflict or aggression found in the city. There were no sounds of Big Daddies roaming the halls, not a remark made by a Little Sister on the condition of an "Angel", not a scream by a Splicer or a screech by a Big Sister. In the distance, the announcements which sang the praises of the Thinker were barely audible, the sound files beginning to corrupt from age and deterioration.

The Den's population had been reduced not so many years ago to nearly zero, a particular Alpha series cleansing the area of ADAM deranged humans in the pursuit of truth. In all honestly, the Splicers in Minerva's Den hadn't lead a very interesting life since it had been cut off from the rest of Rapture. They hadn't heard any news of the city, hadn't heard of the rise and downfall of Sofia Lamb nor the demise of Frank Fontaine and Andrew Ryan. No visitors at all, until Sigma had ended their boredom. All they'd had for entertainment was to tinker with their inventions and perfect their designs. A futile effort, as they would never be properly used. Nor could they be successfully crafted; being cut off from Rapture meant being cut off from Vulcan's Forge, the district in Rapture that dealt in production, ranging from plastics to metal to concrete. Their corpses still littered the district though; women with gaudy yet ruined hairdos and bald bespectacled gentlemen lying across the floor without a chance of removal as the Saturnine were unaware of the Den's existence, let alone the bodies'.

Subject Sigma hadn't exactly ruined the place, but his passing though had left a significant change there. For one, the Splicers were dead. Obviously. For two, the Den was slightly more dilapidated that it was, the remains of cameras and security bots almost like a signature he'd left behind. But the main change was that in killing Reed Whal, the Thinker had been freed. He could finally communicate with the outside world, rather than aiding them with menial tasks that the city required. He could actually use his intelligence for something better than opening doors or maintaining the oxygen level. For example, his extensive knowledge of every inch of Rapture could help Grace Holloway to reconnect districts previously thought lost to the sea. Utilize his knowledge of mechanics to help repair the broken Hephaestus core, the harvesting equipment up in Ceres Green (the district that grew all of Rapture's food, plant or livestock) and to re-calibrate the vita chambers to heal everyone so that no more of Rapture's inhabitants could die prematurely. He could have even used the technology there in the Den, perhaps the Vacuum-bots to aid in cleaning up rubble. Then again, they'd all been mysteriously destroyed.

_So much I could do, if only I was called upon._

It wasn't that he was forbidden to offer advice to people without being asked, that was very much up to him. It was parts of his AI code that helped ground him to Minerva's Den; You Will Not Lead. This was put in as a precaution in case he (for some inconceivable reason) should he decide that he was somehow better that humanity, and come to the logical conclusion that he could take over Rapture by force. Though unlikely, The Thinker admired the care which had gone into creating him, safeguarding against every eventuality. It was as though Charles Milton Porter had calculated every possibility as he himself had calculated Charles Milton Porter's return and subsequent victory. He did miss Charles Milton Porter, but it gladdened him to think that he had escaped, living on the surface with Brigid Tenenbaum. The Thinker had calculated that with her knowledge of ADAM and The Thinker 2.0, he would be able to correct the alterations to his mind and vocal chords, repairing the damage done in becoming an Alpha series. He'd also calculated other things about Charles Milton Porter, but for some reason they wouldn't surface to the center of his thoughts, as though some inbuilt code turned into a barrier every time they threatened to make an appearance. Perhaps like "Override Code 34". Maybe this was a variant of that code. Perhaps 33 or 35. Well, whatever it was, he was sure it must be there for a reason.

"_Hey thinker?" _Stanley's voice came through the speaker system. It didn't interrupt The Thinkers thoughts; it was impossible to interrupt his thoughts as he could run up to three conversations at one time, on top of regulating Rapture. Stanley's voice was haggard, cracking on the first word like an adolescent male. He'd evidently only just woken up after being knocked out.

"_Yes, Stanley Poole?" _

"_Where did you say those gloves were?" _Stanley Poole asked. Thinker could hear him reattach his glove to the suit.

"_There are in the Maintenance Area, behind a gated doorway. You will have to open it yourself," _Thinker replied. Stanley released the button of his radio, ceasing communications.

The Leak in Dionysus Park. That was what Thinker had been trying to solve; how to locate and repair it. There was no-one in the Park that he could talk to, nor was there anyone that would listen to him. If only he was mobile, then he could do it himself. Perhaps there was something here he could use.

What about McClendon Robotics? Maybe he could build himself a droid of some sort.

* * *

Hidden away in McClendon Robotics, several figures lay in the shadows. Some were on benches, positioned so that they were resting or kneeling, whilst others were standing on the floor together in a huddle. They weren't all together unfortunately; five were up stairs in an office, whilst thirteen were tucked away in a private workshop. They hadn't been seen in years, hadn't been activated, hadn't even been considered. They were forgotten, failed experiments left to rust in the silence.

The one lying on the floor sparked and twitched the lower half of its body, resembling a child kicking its legs. She was facing the vent, her head held in her hands as though overcome with boredom. Her left ear piece was glowing brightly, as were all of the others', providing minute light to the room.

Nothing moved.

And suddenly, the little girls' eyes began to glow.

The coils in here eye bulbs slowly began to warm up, gradually brightening into a steady orange, here earpiece flashing rapidly as she was remotely activated. Her brain was wirelessly uploaded with information, feeding her codes and orders:

[**01001001 01101110 01101001 01110100 01101001 01100001 01101100 01101001 01111010 01101001 01101110 01100111 00101110 00100000 01000011 01101111 01101110 01100110 01101001 01110010 01101101 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101001 01101110 01100100 01100101 01101110 01110100 00100000 01011011 01010100 01001000 01001001 01001110 01001011 01000101 01010010 01011101 00101110 00100000 01001110 01100101 01110111 00100000 01110000 01100001 01110010 01100001 01101101 01100101 01110100 01100101 01110010 01110011 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100011 01100101 01101001 01110110 01100101 01100100 00111010 00100000 01010010 01100001 01110000 01110100 01110101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100011 01101100 01100101 01100001 01101110 01110101 01110000 00101110 00100000 01010010 01100101 01101110 01100001 01101101 01100101 00111111 00100000 01001110 01100101 01110111 00100000 01101110 01100001 01101101 01100101 00100000 01100100 01100101 01110011 01101001 01100111 01101110 01100001 01110100 01100101 01100100 00100000 01011011 01000001 01101100 01110000 01101000 01100001 01011101 00101110 00100000 01010100 01100101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01101101 01101111 01110100 01101111 01110010 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100011 01100101 01110000 01110100 01101111 01110010 01110011 00101110**]

The robotic little sister put her hands to the floor and gradually got to her feet. Her joints yielded uneasily, rust crumbling from her elbows and knees. She surveyed her surroundings for the first time in years, the separate components of her brain slowly awakening and being rewritten; when initially created, their brains weren't uploaded with any complex code, only simple commands as their creator predicted their failure and therefore didn't waste the effort. Thinker uploaded more complex movements to their memory, amendments on judgmental parameters, installing the history that the sisters had missed and so that they'd recognize objects invented after their creation.

When the upload was complete, the android began to run a self diagnostic. Her eyes flared with light, testing to see if age had reduced brightness whilst warming air was blasted out of her scalp vents, clearing away any cobwebs or grime that obstructed the cooling ducts in her head. Her vision flicked from standard to infrared, ultra violet, night-vision and the special ADAM tracker. All visions worked, though the android was running on half its power. She'd need to be charged and oiled, but that wouldn't be hard to do.

The robotic little sister finalized initialization, donning her new name. She used to be called "Georgia," but now she had been re-named "Alpha." The Thinker had thought this would be appropriate, stealing the naming system used for the Alpha series.

Alpha began walking around the workshop, seeing how one by one her sisters were awoken, their eyes flickering to life. Some only had one eye working, whilst others had vents entirely blocked upon inspection. She did the best she could, scooping our muck from the vents of her fellow androids as they warmed up. She waited patiently for them to fully awaken, flexing their joints and flaring their eyes. Soon, they began to climb down from the benches and extracted themselves from huddled positions, straitening into default standing positions.

Unfortunately, due to her design she didn't have the capabilities of wirelessly broadcasting to her sisters. She'd only been intended for gathering ADAM, yet with her new updated she could do so much more. She could think, she could reason, she could strategize. She was…an improvement on what she was.

She opened her mouth.

"_Sisters, follow!"_ She spoke. Her sound files had been modeled on the child that had recorded for the gatherer's garden, the obnoxious voice that sounded both smug and whining. Her speakers were scratchy, buzzing on certain syllables.

She led her sisters out from under the crawl space sized exit and into the workshop, her water resistant body dripping with water from crawling though puddles. She got to her feet and strode over to the centre of the room, her joints whirring with each motion. She heard metallic clicking overhead, and saw five more little sisters walking along a metal strut as though they were tight rope walking, joining them after having been stashed n different places. This brought their total up to 18 units, and adequate number for whatever they were instructed to do. The others lined up automatically, forming three rows in front of her.

"_Confirm idents! Alpha!"_ She yelled. The droids spoke in sequential order, from the left of the row to the right before the next row started. Some of the voices were broken, sounding like a skipping record whilst others just cut out.

"_Beta!"_

"_Gamma!"_

"_Deltatatatatatata!"_

"_Epsilon!"_

"_Zeta!"_

"_Eta!"_

"_Theta!"_

"_Iota!"_

"_KappPPppapa!"_

"_L…L…LammDDDDa!"_

"_Mu!"_

"_Nu!"_

"_Xi!"_

"_Omicr…on!"_

"_Pi!" _

"_Rho!"_

"_SigGGgggggma!"_

The Thinker was listening to all of this, gratified to learn that most of them weren't too damaged. He quickly sent Alpha several objectives. Her earpiece blinked as she received them, her head cocked to one side.

"_Everyone to Dionysus Park!"_

The sisters filed out in single file, Alpha leading the out of the workshops and through to the recently restored exit. They marched on the same foot, occasionally freezing in place as a frayed wire sparked. They marched past the welcome desk and out the main door, Alpha turning right at the end of the tunnel whilst the others turned left towards the Park.

Alpha had a different task to fulfill.

* * *

A/N: I didn't come up with the names for "Vulcan's Forge" or "Ceres Green". I created the districts and needed names. I saw them on a blog about a possible Bioshock first person MMO forum and they kinda stuck, just so people dont think i'm stealing ideas. Im so terrified of copyright i would probably never even publish a book unless ive asked the creators of everything ive referenced.


	13. Chapter 13

Becky fastened the pack firmly across her back, tightening the leather straps on her shoulders and waist until it hurt. Discomfort was a small price to pay for security, and she _really_ didn't want to loose this bag. It contained all the essentials she would need for her journey: A warm yet slim blanket, several med kits, small boxes of rationed food, a couple of EVE hypos, a flask of clean water and tool kit filled with all the necessary components for her mission. Weapons hung from wherever she could store them: her shotgun was strapped to the bag in a custom made sheath in such a way that she could reach over her right shoulder and draw it without a moment's hesitation. Her fully loaded pistol was clipped onto her belt whilst her backup was taped to her left thigh, just as a failsafe should a Splicer separate her from her other arsenal. A knife was concealed in her boot, the handle visibly protruding. She had also secured a case of trap rivets, which she concealed within her underwear to be used as a last _last_ resort.

Rapture. Where you begin a scientist and end a survivor.

Becky strode over to her desk and input the code to her safe with her thumb. It opened automatically, the hinges groaning with the weight of the reinforced door. She hastily grabbed a few dollars and shoved them into her right pocket, the left already occupied by assorted ammo. Closing her safe, Becky took one last look around her office. She suspected that she wouldn't return to this place in a while, and savored each last second of being there. Shutting her eyes so that she wouldn't accidently stay too long, Becky forced herself to exit the room and lock it behind her. She trudged through the Research Centre, slightly dragging her feet as she did so.

In truth, Becky didn't want to go. She wanted to stay right there in Arcadia surrounded by trees. Stay where her mother was, continuing her work for the good of Rapture. But then again, she _needed_ to go. For the good of Rapture.

She collected things as she went. A spring here, a vial of enzymes there, anything that she may need. She didn't know what she was going to find there or what resources would be available to her, so it was best to go prepared, shoving what she could into the limited pockets of her backpack.

She finally reached the threshold of the Research Centre, stopping directly at the line. Once she crossed it, there would be no turning back. She had set automatic locks to ensure the protection of her property, and that meant that no once could get in. Her included. The only way in now was to get The Thinker to override the door, but Becky had already forced him to agree that the door would only be opened should she complete her task and opened by her only.

With a final step, Becky left the Research Center, the sound of locks clunking into place resounding through her and leaving her feeling empty. She couldn't let her emotions get to her though; her task was very important, and emotion would cloud her objectives. In and out, that was it.

There was only one thing left to do.

This time, Becky didn't cower with fright as she entered one of the Saturnine's assorted hideouts. On the contrary, she felt empowered. She and she alone had bartered with them. She had fought them off for years, and had she died yet? Of course not! SHE had survived, and now she had put them to work.

If anything, she was the _leader_ of the Saturnine. They just didn't realize it.

This time only two Saturnine teleported in, and she didn't even have to light a figurine. The first was Belladonna, her expression one of genuine content, reminding Becky of those fat cats who were practically waited on. The other was Frond. He, on the other hand, looked troubled. He was frowning slightly, his lips pursed with concern for something she knew nothing of.

"Becky," Belladonna purred, "To what do we owe this, _pleasant _visit?"

It was evident that it _wasn't_ a pleasant visit; Belladonna may have been in a good mood, but she and Becky were still far from friends.

"I've come to say good bye."

Belladonna's smile widened ever so slightly.

"We expected as much. It was only a matter of time before someone addressed the problem. Well, farewell for now Becky. Rest assured that in your absence, we will uphold your work in Arcadia and continue to sweep Rapture's dust under the rug," Belladonna smirked, though her smile could only be compared to that of a shark that'd just been given the all clear to move into the nearby swimming lake full of humans.

"Don't worry Becky, we'll all make sure she doesn't go wild," Frond said. Belladonna disappeared, her laughter echoing throughout the chamber.

"Thanks Frond. 'Preciate it," Becky murmured, suspecting that Belladonna may have more planned than she let on. She'd probably return to find Arcadia overrun by man eating plants or Killer Daisies. She turned to leave.

"I'm going with you."

Becky whirled around to face Frond.

"What?!" she demanded.

"I'm going with you Becky," Frond repeated.

"Oh no you're not. You've got to stay here and make sure this place doesn't become Donnacadia…"

"When I said we, I meant they. _They_ will keep her in line. I couldn't say in front of her, as she'd never let me go. But now she's gone I'm free to do as I please."

"Frond, you aren't coming."

"Oh yeah? So where are you going?"

"Ceres Green. Alone," Becky said defiantly.

"Ah, I see! You mean the place that's been blocked from Rapture for three years now?" Frond raised an eyebrow.

Silence.

"Well…uh, I suppose um, blocked? Well I guess I uh…shit," Becky groaned. How had she been so careless? Of course she'd studied maps, and knew exactly where Ceres Green was in relation to Arcadia. She knew it was reachable by Bathysphere, but they hadn't been operational in ages. Plus Ceres Green wasn't really a public attraction so the option wasn't available on normal models; a special Bathysphere would have to be sent from Ceres Green to collect visitors. She'd planned to wing it, getting The Thinker to hack a Bathysphere for her and send it the preprogrammed course for Ceres Green. But now she knew it was blocked off?

She'd never accounted for that.

"Therefore, I'm coming with you," Frond concluded, his face serious.

"How could you help? If it's blocked off how could you possibly help me?"

Frond teleported out of the room, only to return a few seconds later, his face a few centimeters from hers. She shrieked and jumped back, resisting the instinctual urge to slap him across the face.

"That answer your question?" he asked, his face grave.

"Why don't you just teleport me strait there then?"

"It's short range teleport, you know that. I can get us past the entrance once we arrive," Frond responded, "Anyway, what do you expect to _do _there?"

"What I can. I don't know what I'm gonna find there. I asked The Thinker…"

"Who?"

"Oh, he's the guy, er, _robot_ that runs the life support of Rapture. Anyway, there aren't any cameras in Ceres Green. Apparently, they've either been removed or the powers out. Either way, I've got to go and find out personally. I'll do what I can to repair machinery, plant produce, _anything_ to get food back into the city. We can't live off cream filled cakes and potato chips forever."

"What about meeting hostility? The Green's been cut off from Rapture for a while. I'm guessing that includes the workers. Who knows what kinda splicer evolved there? You heard about the scientists at Minerva's Den, right? People who were about as aggressive as a turnip tearing each other to shreds. And you're marching into a place where the workers were used to manual labor and dealing with animals."

"What?"

"I'm just saying. If there are any splicers trapped in Ceres Green, they're gonna be ten times worse than the ones that were in Minerva's Den..."

"Is that why you looked so determined earlier? Ready to spring this on me?" Becky fumed, angry at her assumption that something in Rapture could ever be goddamn easy. Frond shuffled uncomfortably.

"No, actually. I've got other things I need to do to, but I'm choosing to help _you_ out. I think you should be a bit more grateful. You would have arrived to Ceres and discovered that it would have all been for nothing if I hadn't told you. For the record, all of the other Saturnine would have let you go and fail because they think you're a joke and…"

"WOAH, COOL IT FROND!" Becky yelled. Frond fell silent, but his cheeks were flushed and he appeared to be sweating slightly, "Are you okay? Is there something, bothering you?"

"I'm fine," he snapped, "Just having to ration my ADAM supply, that's all."

"Why?" Becky asked confusedly, "Can't you just get some more?"

Frond shook his head wearily and sat down in the water. He was breathing heavily.

"A few days ago, we were clearing up bodies in The Seven Muses. We found a Little Sister there, named Holly," he laughed frantically, as though he found this hilarious but didn't have the breath to laugh, "Holly the Little Sister! I took her to the Medical Pavilion, as we've started using the retirement homes to story the bodies. She's stayed there ever since…"

"Where are you goin' with this Frond?" Becky said, suddenly feeling anxious. Frond had been reduced from a level headed guy prepared to help her on her quest to a gibbering wreck in a matter of seconds. Something was wrong, very wrong.

"Haven't you noticed? You were a Little Sister yourself once weren't you?"

"How did you…?"

Frond waved the question away.

"Listen Becky. Can't you hear it? The Silence. Yet the _voices_. They're everywhere!" Frond had begun to rock on the floor, hugging his knees.

"Frond, stay with me here!"

"Only ADAM can calm them, but the talk and talk and TALK AND TALK AND TALKANDTALKANDTALK…!"

"Frond, what the hell's the matter with you!?"

"There are no more Little Sisters! Holly's the last one!"

* * *

A/N: Ooooohhh, what does this mean for Rapture!? All in good time guys, all in good time.

Just wanted to give you a warning. (Uh, spoiler alert i think?) I have NO idea how long this thing will be. It could end up 20 chapters, it could end up 50 (unlikely, but who knows?) I kinda want a storyline in Ceres Green like the Minerva's Den DLC, but thats gonna take ages. And whats gonna happen to the other characters in that time?

See my pain?

Anyway, please review. It's just such a great feeling to see people appreciating my work (then again, i got excited when i broke 1'000 views. I'm pretty easy to excite. Take that any way you will :P) So PLEEEEEEEESE review, give me ideas. LET ME KNOW YOU EXIST!


	14. Chapter 14

Storming out of the Maintenance Area, Stanley wondered how long it had been since he'd injected himself with Incinerate! 3. Though to him it had only seemed seconds between passing out and waking up, in reality he could have been out for hours. As soon as he'd woken up, he'd practiced with his new plasmid ability so that he knew how it worked. Shooting up with plasmids was like gaining a new muscle, and using them was like trying to locate it. It was like asking a person who'd never wiggled their ears or raised an eyebrow to do so. It wasn't as bad when a plasmid upgrade was similar. For example, using the Incinerate! ability to create a burst of fire was easy, and when upgraded to Incinerate! 2, it was the same basic feeling. But now he'd been given the ability to create a continuous jet of flame? That was a different feeling entirely. His hair was still smoking from his first attempts at locating the "muscle". He probably should have put his helmet on first.

He'd eventually found a Welding Glove in an employee locker after having to smash the security gate open with a wrench he'd found, following Thinker's directions. It had taken ages to smash the lock, and a further ten minutes to widen the gap in the stubborn gate enough that he could pass through. Apart from the lockers, the room had otherwise been empty, save the odd splatter of blood (that apparently couldn't be removed with water) or a clip of ammo.

He paused and held the glove up to examine it properly. The glove was made of several pieces either dark or light leather, crudely held together with strong stitching. It looked like it had been cobbled together from off-cuts at a textiles factory. What appeared to be a miniature Bunsen burner was attached to the palm, minus the air valve. The Bunsen burner was slightly conical towards the base, the entire shape curved rather than strait sided. When worn, fire from the users palm would be channeled through the metal cone to produce the same effect as a welding torch, the flame blue with extreme heat.

Stanley strode confidently across Plaza Hedone, unafraid of attack by a Splicer.

Everyone here was sleeping with the fishes, which meant Stanley was in for an easy ride.

Stanley passed several corpses gathered near the doorway floating face-down in the water, each washed clean of blood yet still seemed horribly mutilated by bullets. Somehow being clean of blood made it worse, allowing him to see the internal organs of the bodies without the blood to obscure them.

Stanley repressed the urge to be sick. Sure he'd killed people, but he'd drowned them. He hadn't spilled their guts.

Did that make him a better person? Could you call that humane?

Luckily, there was no one around to contradict him, so he decided he was in the right. The water was deeper here, reaching his knees and freezing his legs. He was starting to get pissed off with the temperature, and he was only gonna have fully immerse himself again.

Shoving the glove in his left pocket, Stanley trudged onwards to Pump Station 5.

He took this time to think again. He didn't know why people were always surprised when he told them he thought a lot; back in Rapture's heyday, they all thought was just a shallow reporter. Everyone would try to avoid him as they assumed he was trying to get close to them in order to glean information for the Rapture Tribune. Well, he supposed that was true; Sofia Lamb could tell anyone that, but that was the only major story he'd pulled from someone. Everything else had been petty things, like outing people who owned crucifixes to the public or selling people's information to Rapture's various marketing companies.

Of course, none of that mattered now. Rapture was down to less than twenty percent of its original population. The figures were frightening, even though he himself had contributed to its degradation.

He had considered the implications this presented. The most pressing of this was the question of practicality; how would they run Rapture now? Are there enough people to actually _run_ it? They needed engineers, shop keepers, messengers. Would entertainment have to be sacrificed to a new way of life because there were no actors? What about news, who would report it? Who would run the transport, restarting the Atlantic express and the Bathysphere system? Restarting Rapture from scratch seemed impossible. It was, in effect, hoping that psychopathic murderers would group together and rehabilitate themselves. It was easier back on the surface. They weren't confined to a certain space up there; they could rebuild a high or as wide as they wanted whereas in Rapture, they could only build within the confinements set from the original construction. They could also travel between town, city, even between country, leaving behind their worries or accepting newcomers with open arms to rebuild their civilization. In Rapture, you were locked in for life, and it was highly unlikely anyone else could join them. As far as he knew, Rapture's self defense systems were still up and running.

And then there was the biggest question of all: Repopulation. How would _that_ work? They could always do it the er…_traditional _way, but then there were several problems this had. The first and foremost was the biological science behind reproduction. He'd worked close to a fellow reporter who had written a report following an interview with a Fontaine Futuristics scientist. The article revealed that overusing ADAM resulted in an eighty percent chance of becoming infertile. Now, based on the fact that less than one percent of their current population _hadn't_ abused ADAM, Stanley made a rough estimate that nineteen percent of the people living in Rapture could actually pair up and conceive a child. But that's where ethics came into it. People didn't want to be screwing each other just because they had a chance of getting knocked up. They wouldn't. In fact they'd rather pump each other full of lead than anything else.

Of course, they couldn't get anymore people from the outside, not after the Little Sister fiasco Lamb had created. They could hardly entice anyone to join Rapture in its current state anyway.

They couldn't clone people either. Ages ago, there had been a scandal where hundreds of cloned humans were born using ADAM. They had all been horribly deformed, their genetic code far too unstable to support growth. Plus everyone I Rapture would need to be cloned at least five times, and that would mean a significant absence of an adequate gene pool.

During his reverie, Stanley had passed through the entrance to the Pump Station and had begun to descend the steps into the sea water. He'd already passed the main turbines, and they had looked in pretty bad shape. There was no way he'd be able to fix that; he was just hired muscle, not a clever mechanic. The Thinker would just have to find someone else to do fix that.

The water was ice cold here, and the suit was doing little to keep him warm. He briefly considered taking a piss to keep warm, but quickly decided against it. That only really worked in wetsuits, and he didn't fancy walking around Rapture with pee sloshing around his watertight suit.

Here he could tell he was near the source of the flooding. He could see the currents in the water as they rushed off to fill the Alley, bubbling and frothing in places.

He could see a pulsating red light under the water, getting closer with each step he took. They must have been some sort of emergency lights, designed to alert the workers of the station that there was a leak, just incase they failed to notice that they were surrounded with water or that they couldn't breathe.

Stanley gritted his teeth and took the final step down and watched as the water in front of his porthole went from frothing madly to being absolutely tranquil. Underwater, the lights seemed to dye his surroundings alternating bright and dull red, lighting his way to the damage. He struggled against the current, grabbing whatever he could to drag himself forward. He followed the trail of lights through several gloomy rooms: the lights could only penetrate the water so far, and they were all there was to guide him.

Stanley fought through an open doorway, and finally found himself in Pump Station 5 pump room. In the muted light he could make out what appeared to be rows and rows of seats, set out like a church congregation. An altar was set out towards the back of the room, and a large picture hung up on the wall behind it. He couldn't make out what it was a picture of, due to water damage and the low lighting. And on either side of the room he could make out the shapes of the pumps, four on each side of the congregation. They each plugged into the wall and curved upwards towards the ceiling, red lights glowing from in between the base of the pipes. By the strength of the current, he could tell there were either several ruptures in the machinery or one big one. He assumed the first was most likely. Weeds which clung from the pipes whipped furiously in the water, dancing as they were caught in conflicting currents.

Fighting for balance, he soldiered on towards the edge of the walkway he was on, bending his knees to ground himself better. He crawled to the edge and jumped. The water kept him pressed against the wall, but he quickly floated to ground level.

The cracks in the pipes were clear to see, some stemming from the base whilst others ran the entire length of the pipes. Stanley patted his right pocket. This was going to need a lot of EVE, and he'd remembered to grab as many as he could on his way over. Nine EVE hypos sat snugly against his thigh, thanks to the huge pockets of the suit. From his other pocket, Stanley once again took out the Welding Glove and slipped it onto his left hand, closing his fingers around the funnel on his palm to protect it from getting damaged.

The current was unbearable, nearly sweeping him off his feet, but Stanley managed to stride forward and grab a bench. The section under his hand snapped off, threatening to throw his concentration and set him back to square one. He managed to stay where he was, and with a strong lunge, managed to anchor himself to the first pipe.

_Jeez, how the hell did I go from a mass murderer to a handyman?_ Stanley thought, _How the hell did they even convince me?!_

As carefully as he could, Stanley opened his left hand, his arm muscles aching as he tried to keep it steady. He lowered his hand to the first fissure in the metal, aiming the tip of the metal cone at the breach. He closed his eyes and tried to recreate the same feelings he'd had when he'd tried earlier. It took a while, but eventually he felt the familiar twinge in his arm and brain, signifying that plasmids were being used.

Stanley opened his eyes and saw a large blue flame at the end of the curved cone, the metal on the pipe already beginning to redden with heat. Bubbles were beginning to form around the flame, racing away with the water as he continued to work.

Stanley frowned. The break in the pipe was now orange with heat, but the two sides weren't closing together. Stanley let go of the pipe and smoothed the breach over. Luckily, the suit was water proof _and_ heat proof. Well, not heat proof exactly, but the metal didn't damage the suit. It was like smoothing wet clay, the metal closing over the breach with ease. Stanley had to hold his hand over the hole so that the water wouldn't push the soft metal away. When he took his hand away there was a palm shaped fix on the pipe, the metal sufficiently cool and hard.

Stanley dropped his hand away. He could already feel the drain of EVE in his system, and that was only after one small fix.

Something told him it would take more than nine EVE hypos to fix this place.


	15. Chapter 15

"Yes Mr. Cohen, I understand your concern but…"

"_Concern?! How dare you write off my personal ethics as CONCERN!"_

Grace gripped the radio harder, trying to avoid visualizing the man's neck between her fingers.

"What do you want me to do Cohen? Demand that all of the bodies be brought back to Fort Frolic?"

"_THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I WANT! What gives you the right to interfere with MY district? You don't _own_ me, you don't _own_ my work."_

"I never said I did Cohen, but…"

"_Then why, Miss Holloway, did you desecrate my masterpieces? Must I remind you of the beliefs tat Rapture was founded on? "Where scientist's need not fear ethics, where the artist need not fear the censor." Have we abandoned all of our beliefs?"_

Grace resisted the urge to point out his hypocrisy. Apparently, it was obscene stray from Rapture's rules, yet giving up the rules of humanity didn't matter, murder becoming the new handshake. He also happened to be wrong. It was actually "_A city where the artist would not fear the censor. Where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality. Where the great would not be constrained by the small._" Again, she had to fight for composure.

This had been going on for over an hour. Grace had been forced to excuse herself from the Limbo Room on account of Cohen sprouting obscenities through the portable radio, much to her embarrassment. She now stood just out side of the entrance, her attention divided between the madman in her right hand and the crowd inside. Sometimes crowds grew ugly, no matter how benign the occasion was. She'd seen splicers murdering each other whilst celebrating her own birthday.

That was three years ago, and she hadn't celebrated it since. She lit a candle instead, mourning both the people lost and Rapture herself.

"No, Mr. Cohen, we haven't abandoned all of our beliefs. I didn't dismantle your…_insightful_ creations because I didn't agree with their messages. More the opposite, I dismantled them _because_ I agreed with them. Tell me the meaning of Fleet Hall again?"

"_Certainly. __It is a reflection of Rapture, the bodies encased in plaster representing its citizens whilst the meticulously placed rubble represented devastation,"_ Cohen replied, his drawling tone making it sound as though he'd memorized that description.

"Exactly! What better way to further your concept by cleaning it up? Think about it Cohen. The way that the devastation is contrasted with the preservation not by seeing them side by side, but through_ time_, time being the metaphor of your career. It will show how you alone showed Rapture the way forward, and how art lead Rapture through dark times!"

It was complete and total bull. Grace couldn't care less about Cohen's career; she just needed him to help out.

Cohen was silent. Grace could hear the splicer's talking through the broken windows. They were talking about their memories of the surface. Thankfully, they were discussing how they could establish a community again, using their surface memories as examples. Grace was relieved that they weren't sad thinking of their past lives, discussing with gusto rather than grief.

"_Yes…YES! I see it now! That's just…that's just genius!"_

"Don't thank me, it was _you_ that lead me to think this. I merely followed the clues you left behind," Grace gushed, putting on her most enthusiastic voice. She couldn't believe she was lowering herself to stroke the ego of this nutcase.

Then again, she had ordered the murder of an innocent man, resulting in the deaths of many. This was nothing in comparison.

"_Yes, I see it now! I am the savior of Rapture. Hahaha! I never saw it like that!"_

He gasped suddenly.

"_I need to go. I need to create! Hahaha, another metaphor! As I repair Rapture, I create art!" _

"Indeed you do," Grace rolled her eyes, "Better go be a savior then."

Sander Cohen cackled madly, his voice suddenly replaced by static as he turned his radio equipment off.

Grace closed her eyes and took a deep breath, grateful that Cohen was at least human enough to actually listen to her. That was more than she could say for some. At least Cohen could be reasoned with; she'd heard awful tales of the people in power all over Rapture, the "Founders" that people thought they could trust. Cohen being one of them, but his acts were more tame than that of Dr. Steinman, for example. She'd heard that he kidnapped random citizens and mutilated their facial features, sometimes chopping them up of cutting them off entirely, allowing them to roam Rapture entirely without a face, muscle and torn cartilage visible for all to see. Or perhaps Gilbert Alexander, another person she'd never met yet heard so much about. Apparently, he was so disfigured by ADAM he had to communicate through a customized security bot, frying his "employees" just because he could.

It was enough to make her stomach turn. At least _she_ hadn't done anything like that. She'd just orders deaths. She hadn't actually killed anyone, and certainly hadn't done it for sadistic purposes. She'd done it because it was justice. It was mostly a life for a life, putting murderers down. Of course, now that _everyone_ was a murderer, that part of her job was kind of redundant now.

"_Grace Holloway?"_

Great. Just great. _More_ problems. She raised the radio back to her lips, looking longingly back into the Limbo.

"What now, Thinker?"

"_I thought you'd like to know that the leak in Dionysus Park has been repaired and Stanley Poole is currently repairing the damage done to Siren Alley."_

Well, at least they were making progress. At least it was _something_.

"Good, good. And Becky?"

"_Becky Langford is currently unavailable. Unfortunately, I cannot see her on any camera or contact her through her radio. I am confident in her being alive however, so the fault must be technical."_

"Okay then. What's next?"

"_The Adonis Luxury Resort. This district is fully inundated. Fortunately, this district is easily repaired, as there is only one main area of destruction; the windows in Demeter's Banquet Hall are destroyed. A barricade can be placed over the breach whilst the District is drained, as _these_ pumps are fully functional. Once drained, the windows can be replaced and the barricade will be removed." _

"Thinker, you know you don't need my permission, right?"

"_On the contrary, I _want_ your permission. I feel the compulsion to inform you of my solutions, and you can either confirm or prohibit them."_

"Now why the hell would I prohibit them?"

"_My choices are not made with morality in mind. That's why I would rather have you review them first. For example, I may make the logical decision to destroy part of a district in order to repair wires, whereas this district could house many people."_

"I see. Well, everyone in Adonis is either dead or a fish, so I got no trouble there."

Across the city, in a warehouse joined onto the one with the replacement tunnels, a green light glowed to life.

"I'm guessin' that this is the same thing as the tunnels. Fully automated, right?"

"_Correct. The pumps are always on regardless, so as soon as the barricade is in place draining will begin immediately."_

The barricade was, of course, specifically designed to cover that particular window. Again, when in place the barricade will expand sideways, leaving a slight gap between the window and itself so that another window could be secured with ease. A motorized crane plucked it from its resting place and dropped it into a plunge pool, where it instantly sped of to the resort, head first to avoid water resistance.

"So, was there anything else you wanted?"

"_Yes, as a matter of fact there was. I wish to meet you in person,"_

Grace nearly dropped the radio. _Meet_ The Thinker? She couldn't possibly make it as far as Minerva's den at her age, despite the use her cane.

"But…"

"_Meet me at the Fishbowl Diner in ten minutes. I have a feeling that it's time we got properly acquainted,"_ Thinker said, cutting Grace off.

The Radio went dead, signifying that communications had been terminated.

What on Earth? How could she meet the thinker at the Fishbowl? She knew that he was fully integrated throughout the city, but was that because he had more than one…body? Was there a Thinker in each district, discreetly hidden yet fully in control?

Slipping the radio into her pocket, Grace re-entered the Limbo.

They were now singing an old Rapture song, one she herself had been taught and had taught others. It was like a nursery rhyme, yet kids and adults sang it alike. It had spread like wildfire since its creation. It was ironic really: fire spreading underwater.

_Are you missin' the sun, are you missin' the air?_

_Well just sing this song and you'll forget to care!_

_Down in the depths here we're different and proud,_

_With ADAM and EVE, we'll sing way out LOUD!_

_With Ryan and Steinman and Lamb and Suchong,_

_Cohen, Alexander and old Tenenbaum!_

_We're links in the Great Chain, we hold fast and strong._

_Still feelin' bad? Well, just re-peat the song!_

It was the kind of song that was sung slowly, then when repeated it gradually gets faster and faster until people can't help but laugh as they get tongue tied. It eventually ends up a light hearted competition, people trying to sing it faster than one another.

They were currently singing at moderate speed, though it was easy to see that some were struggling whilst others were flourishing.

It was something she'd come up with herself; a way of identifying how people were spliced up if their physical stature wasn't enough to go by. It was simple: if they sing it slow, they were probably armed with Gene Tonics, the kind that affected the person's body, like increasing muscle size or enabling camouflage. Those who sang it quickly had Plasmids. They could do things quickly as Plasmids sped up reaction time as they heavily relied on the brain to direct them.

She'd been quite proud when she'd discovered this, but she'd kept it to herself. Knowledge was _her_ weapon; there was no logic in arming others with it and loose her advantage.

Grace walked over to where Gideon was sitting, careful to avoid excited splicers as they danced to the song. She lightly tapped him on the shoulder.

He focused on her immediately, though he was smiling. It was nice to see him enjoy himself for a change, as opposed to the sullen, antisocial eccentric he used to be.

"Gideon, I'm just goin to meet a friend at the Fishbowl. Are you okay handling things here?" Grace asked. She'd intended to take Gideon with her, but seeing his face…she couldn't bring herself to take him away from the room.

Gideon shrugged.

"Sure, I can take care of things here. Just don't be too long," he said, his face now a balance between entertained and serious. Grace decided to leave before she tipped the scales in the latter's favor.

"Bring your friend with you!" Gideon called after her, and she heard him laugh.

It was such a welcomed sound in Rapture, a laugh. Hardly anyone laughed nowadays.

Maybe this was a sign that things _were _getting better. Maybe it was time to relax slightly, to take a break from work.

Of course, no such thing could happen.

"**Grace? It's Becky. We've got a situation here."**

* * *

A/N: I'd just like to take this opportunity to thank lucie-anne and Gunnery sergeant Nathan smith for their continued support throughout this story. Without your encouragement, i probably wouldn't had had the confidence to carry on. (By the way, if you like this story, please check out lucie-anne's " The Making Of A Little Sister", as it will provide insight to the Little Sister's creation 3)


	16. Chapter 16

The journey from Pauper's Drop hadn't been easy for Grace.

It had been a strange experience, leaving the Drop for the first time in years. Though she had seen Rapture as cages within a cage, it felt oddly liberating to finally travel from one district to another. Perhaps she'd been down there too long; that she'd forgotten how far she used to be able to travel back up on the Surface, and that her world and the way she perceived space had simply shrunk.

She now stepped out of the bathysphere into the musty air of a Metro-Station so old that no one could remember its name; yet another secret reclaimed by time. She walked forward, her cane grasped tightly in her hand as she forced her legs to walk. Since _when_ had walking become this hard for her? Sure, she'd been using a cane for a while, but in all her years with it, it'd never been _this_ hard. She felt as though she were walking through treacle, each step a labor.

Grace glanced over her shoulder, making sure that her companions were keeping up. To her right, Frederick walked as slowly as his body would allow, restraining his usual lumbering gait as not to overtake. Grace had found him smashing up chunks of concrete near the Limbo Room, excusing him from his duties and asking him to accompany her to the Medical Pavilion. After all, she was only one old woman making her way across Rapture; it didn't hurt to have some form of protection. Better it were a Brute than anyone else.

Grace didn't need to check her other side to tell that her other companion was present. She could hear the mechanical noises the robot made; the clank as metal struck metal and the grinding sound its rusty joints made with every step it took. She'd been shocked at first, seeing the little clockwork girl waiting for her outside of the Fishbowl. Grace hadn't been sure of what she'd been expecting, but a tin child hadn't been it. Grace didn't understand it as Alpha had explained that Thinker was somehow…_using_ her body to see and hear through.

Perhaps it was best she didn't understand. After all, if she were a scientist she wouldn't have been flaunting her voice in The Limbo whilst Rapture crumbled.

"Fredrick, you go on ahead and check if it's safe for me, would you?" Grace asked. Fredrick instantly thundered forward in response, moving quickly ahead and through the door at the end.

"_Is that clever G-G-Grace?"_ Alpha asked. Grace had figured out when Thinker was using Alpha or not; he always used full names when addressing or referring to someone. That, and Alpha's ear light changed color.

"It's fine Alpha. No one's been in this here station for-"

Grace heard Fredrick yell in the distance as something large crashed into something, followed by the tinkle of shattered glass; Grace felt the shockwaves through the floor. She froze, waiting to hear the screams and explosions of combat. After she had counted to ten, she released her breath and continued walking.

"_Yeah_, _you'll be f-fine!"_ Alpha giggled several paces ahead, her voice sounding just like that sarcastic little girl that shouted from those Plasmid machines.

_Robot's givin' me lip now…_

Though Alpha hadn't stopped walking, her legs were still quite short and she occasionally seized up as she moved, providing ample opportunity for Grace to walk back in front and continue towards the exit.

"Alpha, could you get me Thinker?" Grace asked, stepping though as the ext door slid up into its frame.

"_Sure thing GRACE!"_ Alpha screeched the last word as her neck sparked slightly. She froze, her earpiece blinking rapidly. Grace waited patiently at the threshold as Alpha's earpiece faded from blinding white to a dull green, indicating that Thinker had inhabited her body. The robot began to walk again as though nothing had happened, marching to catch up with Grace.

"_Grace Holloway,"_ Thinker greeted, "_What has happened?"_

"Hey Thinker, I just needed to ask if you got hold of Becky yet? I'm getting' worried 'bout her…"

"_I'm afraid I haven't been able to contact Rebecca Langford."_

Grace pursed her lips in agitation. It'd been two hours since she'd last heard from Becky. A lot could have happened in that time.

"Just try and find her, okay? Search through the cameras, just so I know she's safe, or even alive. You never kn-…what in the world!?"

Grace had descended down a flight of stairs, facing another flight that converged in the middle. The bottom section that allowed pedestrians to walk to the lower level was entirely missing, creating a miniature waterfall from the water that cascaded from sections of the roof (which Grace had done her best to avoid).

Fredrick stood directly under the stairs, allowing the water to wash over his body. On the opposite side of the room, a clock half the size of a train car had recently been flung into the wall; dust was only just settling from the impact she had heard earlier.

"Fredrick, are you alright?" Grace called down. She'd noticed that the water had started to run red as it ran over the lower half of his body on the right side.

"Nothin' to trouble yourself with, boss. Just a little nick," Fredrick grumbled back. He stepped out from under the water and beckoned Grace closer, offering her his hands as platforms.

"I'm getting' to old for this town," Grace muttered, shuffling forward and allowing Fredrick to lower her to the ground.

"_DON'T FORGET MEEEEEEE!"_ Alpha sang, unexpectedly skipping forward and jumping spread-eagled off the edge before Fredrick could turn around to catch her. She fell like a stone, landing face first on the floor with a crunch.

Grace shook her head and turned away, making for the entrance of the Medical Pavilion.

"Come on, stupid," Fredrick snorted, picking Alpha up around her waist with one hand as though she were a doll.

"_I'm…yyyyyOKAY!_" Alpha shouted, her voice speeding up slightly. Grace glared over her shoulder at the little robot-girl. Maybe she hadn't understood how she worked, but it didn't mean it was the smarted invention created.

She'd have to talk to Thinker about this. If there were others out in Rapture, they could have an episode and accidentally cause _more_ damage.

* * *

Darkness, more darkness than she had ever experienced before. And she had seen so much of that red liquid that was actually angel petals that she used to drink. It was everywhere; coating the cracked tiles that felt cold under her feet, smeared across dirty walls where velvet curtains used to hang.

_Blood_.

That's what they called it, the monsters. Blood. And she drank it, and she drank blood and it made her tummy hurt and her head scream with confusion when she thought about it. Where were the petals? Had she done something wrong? Is that why the angels refused to show themselves to her now? Was it because she had stopped gathering?

_I'm a bad girl._

"_Ahh, you must be Grace! I see you've decided to turn up at last."_

Holly heard noise but didn't listen to the words. Where was she? Where had her Prince taken her?!

The ground was soft and furry to touch, and there were strange beds with lids that they shut you in and there were flowers, but those were the _wrong kind of petals_. They weren't kisses.

"_Let's get acquainted later…Belladonna. Is it true, what I hear about this little one?" _

The things she'd seen. She's seen the monsters putting more monsters into a metal box and the smell hurt her nose and she remembered heat, so much heat.

The flames… the dust…the _screams…_

"_I'm afraid so. My followers haven't found anymore. Well, I say anymore…"_

Who was speaking? Holly turned around and clasped her hands to her mouth.

Two pairs of eyes, both locked on her. A woman with strange dark skin, holding an elongated stick in her hand. A woman with strange unearthly white skin, a mask made of squiggly lines and marks on her arms.

"_What do you mean by that?"_

"_There were bodies. Just like her, but with their mid sections savagely torn open."_

Sadness, she heard sadness. Not much, but it made her feel cold. But then she remembered the flames she'd seen and that made her feel feverish.

WHERE WAS HER PRINCE?!

"_My…who could have done such a thing?"_

"_Spider Splicers? They have the weaponry for it, not to mention the motive."_

"_I guess that makes sense…"_

"_So, I assume you know what this implies?"_

"_Yes, damn it I know what this _implies_!"_

Holly froze. She knew they were talking about her. She looked at them slowly, her eyes wide with fear. The way they spoke and how they looked at her…it made her miss her Daddy. He would have gotten them away. The one on the left, the one with the weird squiggly face and no mouth crouched lower. She offered her hand_._

"_Come here, child."_

Holly was rooted to the spot. She didn't know what to do. What should she do? Daddy would know. He was always there, 'till the monsters pulled him down.

Monsters like _her. _

Holly shook her head and made no attempt to move.

"_Stubborn brat…," _the monster cooed softly. Holly had never heard these words before, but the way the monster said it surprised her. It had been soft, almost like Mother had been. Like Mother Lamb had talked to her when she gave Holly her daddy.

Tentatively, Holly took a step towards the monster.

"_But this is…this is monstrous. I can't allow this, no matter the cost. To do this to a child…"_

"_She isn't just a child, she's a Little Sister and she's the only one. There's no more ADAM left, and the Splicers are starting to feel it. So tell me, Grace, what else would you suggest?!"_

Angry. The monster was no longer Lamb, she was the monster again and she was angry. The other one looked Holly strait in the eyes, and Holly saw something in them that reminded her of something, but she couldn't remember exactly what. A memory…a woman who looked at her in the same way? But…when was that? It tickled at the back of her head like the butterflies that she used to see, fluttering just beyond reach.

Holly couldn't remember.

After what felt like a long time, the woman looked to the floor.

"_She'll have to provide for the entire population."_

"_You forget again, Grace, what she is. She isn't like us you know. All she will be doing is her job."_

Another long pause. Longer than the last.

"…_Fine. You win, Belladonna. Just…make sure she doesn't suffer."_

* * *

_A/N: I am so sorry i haven't uploaded in a while guys. Honestly, half of it was laziness, but i have my English Literature A-Level exam next week and Theatre Studies the week after. Urgh, I've managed to plan the next two chapters, but no promises. Hopefully, they'll be out before summer... _


End file.
